


Catalyst

by Shadow15



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Brain Damage, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Head Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow15/pseuds/Shadow15
Summary: When rumours of Fred and George being together spread around Hogwarts, George is targeted for a horrific attack.  Fred, who eventually finds his brother's assaulter, knows he would have killed the student had McGonagall not found them and separated them.  Both twins have been tainted with dark magic, one for casting it and the other for having it cast on HIM, but it all leads to a series of incidents which finds Fred mentally incapacitated, and George blackmailed and threatened into becoming a Death Eater, lest he refuse and have his family wiped out instead.With George juggling between caring for his brother suffering a terrible head injury and trying to resist everything the Death Eaters throw at him, he knows it won't be long before they eventually break him down - and when they do, it's up to Fred to try and help his brother cling to what's left of his humanity and undo the years of psychological torment they had put him through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As this is a very dark fiction, I find it appropriate to warn people who may be sensitive to heavy topics before they begin. Heavy abuse, psychological suffering and torment, and of course, twincest. If any of this may offend you, please turn away now.

In the Weasley twins’ eyes, there was nothing wrong with the things they did together.  They weren’t _together,_ exactly; instead, they shared a closeness that just happened to extend to sharing intimate situations with each other.  They had heard once or twice their parents mutter to each other behind their closed bedroom door that still wasn’t enough to stop the twins from eavesdropping about how Molly found it rather disturbing they were still sleeping in the same bed together at the age of fourteen.  Though that had been a year ago and they were already in their fifth year at Hogwarts, their sleeping arrangements hadn’t changed; they still kissed and caressed and _touched_ at night in the bed they would share that was quite simply too big for only one of them to sleep in.

It wasn’t that they weren’t careful to not be caught – quite the opposite; though it was normal for _them,_ they understood others wouldn’t see it the same way – but it was on a cold, snowy morning where George had forgotten to crawl back into his own bed before the rest of the dorm awoke, and they had been seen.  It must have been the warmth his brother’s comforting body was providing for him in such dismal weather, but he hadn’t woken at the crack of dawn like he had every morning for three years straight to change beds, and their carefully-guarded secret was out.

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Fred had told him at the look of anxiety that didn’t fit his brother’s features at all.  “They’ll probably forget all about it before breakfast.”

George wasn’t fooled by the act his twin had presented him; Fred was bothered, too. 

The student hadn’t forgotten.  And from the looks they received as they walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, word had gotten around.  Fred steeled his gaze to stare straight ahead as he grabbed at his shying brother’s wrist and pulled George further into the fray; if they were to leave now, it would only confirm peoples’ suspicions about them.

“They’re whispering, Fred.”

Fred wasn’t deaf; he was hearing it all for himself, too.  Murmurs about them being gay.  Being disgusting.  But worst of all… _Incestuous._

It was a word he had hated for years now after overhearing someone commenting on his closeness with George, as if it wasn’t _normal_ for them to want to be together every second of the day and do everything together. 

He knew George would be bothered.  George had always been like that; he was too gentle-hearted for his own good and felt things far too strongly.  Sometimes Fred wished the younger was more like him where he could be ruthless and just didn’t _feel_ , but it was one of the few differences between them that no one outside of their family ever seemed to notice. 

“Ignore them, Georgie.” With that said, Fred stuck his spoon into his porridge and dug in.

The whispers never stopped.

“That’s so disgusting…  _They’re_ so disgusting.”

“Being in love with your own brother…  Eww…”

“Wonder how many times they’ve fucked together while the rest of their dorm was sleeping so close…”

The accusations bounced off Fred easily.  Sure, maybe what they shared together wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t as deep as the other students were digging.  They had never been in love with each other, nor had they done anything more than some minor touching.  To be honest, neither of them had ever really been attracted to _anyone;_ it was more that they just _were_. 

It was seeing George’s untouched breakfast that upset Fred; how _dare_ someone upset his brother enough to make him lose his appetite?  He wanted to stand up and curse whoever was making George feel so uncomfortable in his own skin, but how could he do that when there were _hundreds_ of students responsible?  It just wasn’t feasible. 

“Let’s skip first class, Georgie.”

It was an idea that was only too welcome to the younger twin.  They abandoned their meals in favour of leaving the hall and going back to their dormitory; it was too cold to go outside, so they may as well soak in the warmth of the fireplace while they could.

“You shouldn’t listen to them.”

For the first time in perhaps their entire existence, they walked with distance between them.  Their shoulders no longer brushed together with each stride; instead, there was a gap big enough for someone to walk easily between them.

“Easier said than done, Fred…”

The Gryffindor Common Room was deserted.  Fred sat down on the couch and nestled in against the armrest as he patted the empty space beside him.  It made him frown to see his brother hesitate to sit beside him, but he was thankful when at last, the younger did so.  His arm wrapped around George’s shoulders and pulled him tight against his chest. 

“They don’t know what they’re talking about, Georgie.  They think we’re in love.”

George knew Fred had only good intentions with his words, but instead, they only made him feel sicker inside than he already did; if people thought that about them, then…  He could only _imagine_ how they were going to be treated from now on.

  

* * *

 

 

“Freddie…” George couldn’t help but tug at his twin’s sleeve a week later as they sat through breakfast together.  He waited until his brother was looking at him before he cocked his head towards the staff table with wide, anxious eyes.  “Teachers are staring at us…  Do you see them?”

Though Fred had looked to see who the teachers in question were, he didn’t get a chance to reply as the younger whispered again. 

“Do you think they _heard_ …?”

Fred shook his head, and with a gentle smile, he ruffled soft, ginger hair.  “Don’t think too much on it, George; they always look at us to make sure we aren’t going to pull exploding firecrackers out of our pockets and throw them at other students.”

George offered his own tiny smile as the weight on his shoulders lessened; Fred was right; teachers _always_ had their eyes on them anyway.  “Yeah…  Thanks, Fred.”

The stronger male gave a warm smile in return.  He turned his attention back to his friends he had been chatting with, leaving George to his own devices, but it was something Angelina Johnson had said that had him turning back to his brother in concern; _George hasn’t eaten anything in three days now; has he been eating anything at all in between meals?_

Now that Fred was thinking about it…  George _hadn’t_ been eating, save for some chocolate frogs here and there so they could keep the cards for their little shop.  He lowered his gaze to the plate in front of the other, and his eyes danced disapprovingly at the untouched toast still on his twin’s plate that had been there for the half-an-hour they had been sitting here.  “You need to eat something.  You didn’t even eat dinner.”

From whatever faraway world George had slipped into within the two minutes since he had been talking to his twin, he snapped back to reality with a start.  “Huh?  Oh…  I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll write to mum and tell her–“

“-That I’m not eating–“

“-And she’ll send you–“

“-A Howler-“

“-And make you eat.” It made Fred feel slightly lighter to know they were still finishing each other’s sentences; he didn’t know what he’d do if his brother couldn’t even do that anymore. 

A slight smile crossed George’s face, and for the first time since word had gotten around the school, he looked up to meet the older male’s gaze.  “Mum would march in here and force feed me if she knew.”

Indeed she would, Fred agreed.  And finally, to break the uncomfortable tension that had followed them everywhere recently, they both laughed.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t bother Fred in the least to know that Percy couldn’t even stand _looking_ at them anymore, but he knew it was hurting George; they were so very in-tune with each other, he could sense what’s on George’s mind.  It made him angry to know his twin was taking it so personally; George was just too sweet for his own good… 

“Oi, don’t worry about _Prefect_ Percy, Georgie,” Fred tried to comfort one night after another unsuccessful attempt at trying to get their older brother’s attention.  “At least dear little Ronniekins is still talking to us.”

“He doesn’t want to, Fred.” George looked over into the corner of the Common Room where Ron was playing Wizard’s Chess with Harry and Hermione.  “Don’t you see the look of disgust in his eyes whenever he’s near us?”

“I’m seeing it everywhere we go, George; I guess I stopped caring to see who else gives us the same look.” Fred didn’t care there were still so many other Gryffindors around to see them; he reached his arm out and wrapped it around his twin’s shoulders.  “Let’s go to bed.  I’m tired.”

George wasn’t tired, but he nodded anyway; it was better to lay curled up in his twin’s arms wide awake than to remain out here being silently judged. 

It was on their way up the spiralling staircase they came across the only person who wasn’t treating them any differently; Neville Longbottom.  The younger held an empathetic look on his face as he regarded the twins, and his lips moved wordlessly as he pondered on what to say.

“I understand what it’s like…” He finally settled on saying.  He shrugged before he gestured to himself.  “People talk about me all the time, too.  For what it’s worth… _I_ don’t believe in the rumours.”

The three nodded at each other in mutual respect, but nothing further was said between them.

Their dorm was empty, though it was probably to be expected since it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.  They undressed together in silence before they donned their pyjamas.  Since they’d already been found out, George didn’t bother waiting until the rest of Gryffindor was asleep before he crawled into Fred’s bed; he got straight in beneath the blankets and curled into the other’s warm chest.  He almost purred in contentment when arms wrapped around him and held him close. 

As usual, their lips joined and tongues danced together, but there were no touches tonight.  When they broke apart, Fred’s hand reached out and smoothed back George’s growing bangs so they could stare into each other’s eyes.  In synchronization, they yawned together, but only Fred’s eyes eventually slipped closed.  There were no conversations tonight as they tried to drift off into sleep, but George didn’t mind; he could lay curled up in those arms he knew so well and pretend he wasn’t feeling so uncomfortable.

He didn’t know how long he had laid awake for, but eventually, the entire castle fell silent and only the rays of the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the room slightly.  He listened to Fred’s soft breathing as he held his ear against his brother’s chest to allow the gentle beating to try and soothe him into sleep he knew wasn’t coming any time soon. 

But finally, after what must have been an eternity, George’s eyes closed and he fell into a world that was as chaotic as his conscious thoughts.  He would never know the hand that had wiped away his tears throughout the night or the voice that whispered to him to help him stop thrashing about in his nightmares; Fred would never have the heart to tell him he had seen his brother so vulnerable. 

 

* * *

 

“He wants to date me.”

It was in their own little corner of the library that Fred cocked his head to the side and tried to process what he had just been told.  In a gentle tone that still conveyed his confusion, he asked, “ _Are_ you gay, Georgie?”

George shrugged.  He avoided eye contact and said, “I never thought about it.  I just thought… that maybe I could try it, and then people will stop talking about us…”

Fred knew what George was _really_ trying to say; _I’d rather them talk about_ me _than about_ you, _Fred.  I want to do this for you._ He shook his head.  “Just leave it, George; you know I don’t care what people think of me.  You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But as usual, George was pigheaded and said, “I _want_ to, Fred.  Let me do this.”

The older twin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could do so, his twin resurfaced with the piece of paper a student they had never seen before had passed to George that morning on their way to classes.  They hadn’t even been able to catch what House he was in as he’d been out of uniform so they couldn’t even make a haphazard guess at who it could possibly be. 

Fred didn’t like this at all; he’d seen that letter for himself, and there was just something about it that rubbed him the wrong way.  The letter spoke about how it was difficult to be a gay student amongst so many straight, and how it was so incredibly rare to find another student with the same interests and perhaps it might be a nice opportunity to make a new friend, if not something more.

Fred didn’t trust that letter _at all_ , because it could have just as easily been given to him as they were identical, but instead it had been clear to him it was Georgie or nothing the way that student had spoken to him earlier.

“He wants to meet me now.  Down in the unused classroom on Second Floor so we can talk freely.” Though George tried to hide it, Fred still caught the anxiety on his face; it wasn’t easy for George to leave his brother’s side, either…  “I want to do this.  I hate what people are saying about us.”

Fred shook his head.  He stood up and closed his textbooks.  “Then let me walk you down there –“

“-No!” George spoke with much more force than he had intended.  He took a deep breath.  “…No.  It’s okay.  I can do this.”

Fred felt sick as he watched his twin hurry away; they had never separated like this before…  He growled to himself as he snatched up his books and stomped out of the library; there was no point in trying to study anymore because he felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest and he was never going to be able to concentrate until the younger returned. 

The common room was way too crowded for his comfort.  He wanted to go straight to his room and brood on his own, but before he could do so, there was a tug on his sleeve and he was spinning around to glare at his youngest brother.

“Where’s George?”

At least Ron could tell them apart where their own mother couldn’t…  Fred couldn’t keep the bitter tone from his voice.  “None of your business, _Ronniekins_.”

Ron frowned.  Was he taken aback by his brother’s attitude, or George’s absence?  Fred wasn’t sure he wanted to know.  “Mum will worry if she knew George was –“

Fred’s laugh was as bitter as his voice.  “ _Mum_ will worry?  Ronald, how have you _never_ noticed her trying to separate us?  It was five years ago she tried sending George to our aunt’s to get him away from _me_.  _Mum_ would be _overjoyed_.”

Ron didn’t get a chance to say anything back; Fred was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Fred couldn’t work out why, despite it being so late in the night, everyone else was snoring while he was still wide awake.  He figured it was because his brother remained absent and with each minute that passed, his stomach churned more and more with the dread that wouldn’t leave him alone.  George would be fine, he tried to reassure himself.  George was a big boy and could look after himself; it was just them being separated that was making him feel so sick.

…Right?

Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could have eventually fallen asleep despite the ill feelings that were plaguing him, but before he could even try, he heard the door to their dorm room open and a soft sniffle caught his ears.  He tensed, and for the first time in so many years, his world froze; why was his brother crying?

“Fred…”

Fred was out of bed and dragging the younger downstairs in seconds.  He said nothing until they were standing before the raging fire that did nothing to quell either of their feelings, and if he had lesser control of his emotions he may have had tears of his own sliding down his cheeks as he took in the bloodied, battered appearance of his twin.

His voice wasn’t gentle or soothing by any means.  He was rough and angry and _demanding_ as he said, “Who did this.”

George shook his head.  He avoided all eye contact and instead stared at his feet.  “Doesn’t matter, Fred…  I want to go to bed…”

“I’m going to _kill_ them when I found out who –“

“-I want to go to bed, Fred!” George’s shout surely awoke several Gryffindors. 

It was then Fred realized just how bad the other was emotionally, and all anger drained from his being.  His shoulders slumped in defeat.  “…Fine.  Have a bath first, Georgie.”

A fresh wave of tears came as George was reminded what had happened earlier.  He shuddered, but before he could protest, he jumped backwards with a yelp as his brother reached towards him.  “D-don’t touch me!”

Fred was stunned; never had George been like this before – but then again, never had George been in this _state_ before because Fred had always been there to protect his gentle twin.  He silently resolved himself to never allow the other to venture off alone again before he gave a stiff nod.  “Let’s get to the bathroom, Georgie.  You can’t go to bed like this.”

It was as they stood outside the door to the Gryffindor bathroom did George’s voice fail him completely.  He wanted to beg and scream and _plead_ for Fred to let him bathe alone, but all he could manage was to open and shut his mouth wordlessly as he was lead inside. 

The silence was deafening as George stripped himself of his clothing so painfully slowly, they were sure to have grown a few grey hairs when the shirt was finally the first article of clothing to be removed.  Fred felt his body tense and his breath catch in his throat as his eyes scoured a body so familiar to him, yet so… _broken_ in this moment.  He couldn’t see where exactly the blood on his brother’s neck was flowing from, but as he caught sight of the bite marks all over the other’s pale chest, he felt sick.  There was bruising and welts that looked to have been caused by something hitting him – a belt, perhaps?  Gashes that still bled steadily down his body and forming large wet patches all over his pants that could only be seen in the black material under Fred’s scrutinizing gaze as he knew to look for it. 

“D-don’t look…”

It was the tiny voice that broke Fred’s gaze away from the wounds; George sounded so incredibly ashamed.  But _why_ would he be ashamed?  This wasn’t _his_ fault – O-oh…

George’s cries finally reflected the inner turmoil he was in as the bathroom reverberated his agonized sounds.  The stronger male could barely move his eyes from the blood that was dying George’s thighs red, and when he caught sight of _more_ bodily fluids mixed in with it, he threw up.

There were no doubts other students would be waking up now if they hadn’t already from the younger twin’s shout earlier down in the common room.  George didn’t care; why would he when he was so sure Fred would no longer be able to stomach being around someone as disgusting and as filthy as _him…?_

“I told him I didn’t want to…” George could barely speak higher than a whisper, but Fred still heard every word.  “…He…  We were… doing other stuff…  I was too uncomfortable…  I wanted to be back with you…  He wouldn’t let me go…”

Fred gave his own whisper.  “How did you get away, Georgie…?”

The younger shrugged.  “Couldn’t…  Had to… to wait…  It was easier… just letting him do what he wanted…  He had to get bored eventually…”

The older male locked his gaze on lips swollen and bloodied and _bruised_ from what he could only imagine was forceful kissing – or at least, he _wanted_ to imagine; it made him feel sick to his stomach to imagine anything else being shoved past those soft lips...  He reached out to wipe blood smears from his brother’s cheek, but he stopped when eyes blackened from disturbed blood vessels squeezed shut and George gave a frightened whimper.

Fred moved in silence past George and instead to the bath.  The sound of running water was all that filled the room for several minutes until Fred’s voice, thick with loathing, growled, “Let’s get you into the water, Georgie.  I’ll take you to the hospital wing first thing in the morning.”

A hiccup escaped George’s lips.  He shook his head.  “N-no…  I don’t… want to go…”

Fred understood the unspoken words; George didn’t want _anyone_ seeing him so vulnerable and so… so _weak_. 

 

* * *

 

The whispers and mutters had never ceased, not even a month later.  All that had changed about them was the _subject_ of the whispers.  Word had gotten out once again, and looks that had once been filled with hatred were now nothing more than pity and disgust as George would look anywhere but at them while he fidgeted beneath their gazes in uneasiness.

Fred never had found out who had attacked George, but he was never going to rest until he had them in his hands and he had done _far_ worse to them than they could have _ever_ hoped to have achieved that night; they had broken his brother, and that was _unforgiveable_. 

“What class have we got?”

Fred turned to his side to look at Lee Jordan and mutter lazily, “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Lee.”

Excitement crossed Lee’s face as he said, “I heard they’re bringing in a Boggart today!  Jeez, that’s gonna be pretty exciting!  Don’t you think, Fred?”

“No.” Fred knew his tone was steely, but he didn’t care as he took a bite of his toast; how could he be excited when he already knew exactly what he was going to see?  Him being too weak to protect to protect his brother and letting him get hurt all over again…  “I think we’re going to skip today.  Georgie, want to skip class again?”

From where George had been speaking to Harry on his other side, the younger twin jumped slightly at his name before relaxing and turning to look at his brother.  He shook his head and tried to smile, but all that came out was a lopsided frown as anxiety played across his face.  “What was that, Fred?”

Fred reached out to grab his spoon and squeeze it with much more force than was necessary; George was such a nervous wreck these days…  He forced himself to stay calm as he repeated himself in a tone as gentle as he could muster.  “I think we should skip first class today.  Let’s go sit out by the lake.”

George’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened.  He was on the verge of hyperventilating from panic that was only growing stronger as his brother tried to pull him against his chest and hold him, but thankfully Fred got the hint he didn’t want to be touched as the older male’s hands fell back to his side and he could only stare on helplessly, lost for words on what to say to his damaged twin.

Hermione leant across the table and whispered, “George, are you okay?”

“He’ll be okay, Hermione; let Fred handle it.” Harry was looking pointedly away from the twins, but the sympathy was still there on his face; Fred was the best person for this and anyone else would probably only make matters worse.

Ron leant across the table.  His eyes shone with sadness as he asked, “Do you want to play Wizard Chess with me before classes start, George?”

It was Fred who responded.  “Don’t worry, Ron; we’re going to go get our stuff ready for class.  We’ll talk to you soon.”

It hadn’t been easy getting words out of George ever since the attack.  Fred should have expected that, no matter how hard he had tried, the younger was only going to follow him around in silence, even with tears that had long dried up before they were standing around with their classmates outside the classroom as they waited for their teacher to arrive.  Class was even worse; there had once been a time people had expected the twins to be the life of the lesson, but not any longer; George hadn’t spoken in class once since the assault.

Fred’s agitation only increased, and by the time their teacher finally unleashed the Boggart, his own tidal waves of emotion came crashing to the surface while he watched his baby brother cower on the floor as he was once again confronted with the things that had happened that night.  He was barely aware of the tears on his own face as he stepped in front of George and watched the Boggart transform into him leaning over his brother’s cold, lifeless body that signified their separation, but he couldn’t care about that; all that mattered was getting George back to their bed so they could rest.

“It wasn’t your fault what happened.  Okay?” As they lay beneath the blankets together, Fred sure hoped he sounded convincing because with the emotional waver in his voice, he probably sounded as hopeless as George felt.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

George shook his head.  He snuggled in closer to his brother’s warmth.  Their lips brushed together briefly, but he couldn’t let it go any further; he remembered all too clearly how painful it was to have someone crushing their mouth against his…  “…”

Fred’s hand stroked along the small of his twin’s back as they laid in silence.  He thought about sending an owl to his mum and asking for her advice, but he remembered the way she and their father had been so distraught after being summoned to Hogwarts for George’s sake, and it made him rethink that option; how could he only hurt their parents further? 

“Georgie?” Fred swallowed thickly; was he about to tread on forbidden territory?  “Was it… your first time?”

Duh.  Of _course_ it was; neither of them ever spent any time away from the other, so if _Fred_ was still a virgin, Georgie _definitely_ was.  …Or, _had_ been… 

George nodded.  He closed his eyes.  He hadn’t told Fred any more than what he had whispered in the bathroom that night.  With his head resting firmly on the older male’s chest and their hands holding fast to each other’s, he whispered, “He was going so quick for me…  He must have thought… with what everyone was saying about _us_ … that I’d be easy…  I was _scared,_ Fred…  I wanted to tell him to stop…”

Fred remained silent as he stroked his free hand through George’s long hair; just how much was his brother suffering? 

“Then he…  He told me to come to the lake so we could watch the night sky together…  I tried to tell him I had to get back and see you…  But he wouldn’t let me…  I started begging him to let me go, and… in that classroom, he…  He…”

“You don’t have to say anymore; you’re _safe_ now,” Fred promised. 

Silence fell amongst them once again as they lay on their sides, staring into each other’s eyes.  Fred’s hands never stopped caressing George; not until the younger moved closer and timidly pressed their lips together. 

It was completely normal for Fred to hold his brother’s hips in such an intimate manner, but when he heard the nervous whimper the other made at the touch, he drew his hands away.  His eyes softened.  “Did he touch your hips, Georgie…?”

George nodded.  His eyes closed as he felt fingertips ghosting down his side once again, and when the firm pressure rested atop his hip once again, he choked on his tears.  “…”

Fred’s tone was barely above a whisper now.  “Did he put his hands in your pants…?”

Again, George nodded.  His breath stuck in his throat when a hand that could very well have been his own slipped past the hem of his pants, but he didn’t pull away; though it had been very rare for either twin to feel these kinds of urges, this wasn’t the first time their hands had touched the other so intimately.

And now, the older male’s tone was laced with fury as he hissed, “Did he make you _come,_ Georgie…?”

“…” Tears slipped down George’s cheeks now.  “…Y-yes…”

Fred’s fingers tightened around his brother’s flaccid shaft, firm but never hard enough to cause any sort of discomfort to his gorgeous little Georgie.  His tone softened once again as he reined in his hatred to whoever had done this to the younger, and he whispered, “Let me take away what he did to you.  I don’t want you thinking about him anymore.  Think about _me_ instead, Georgie.”

Georgie made no sound as he felt a hand so very like his own try to bring him to hardness.  He wanted to give Fred what he wanted, to be able to enjoy the touches and allow himself to be brought to climax like they had done to each other several times before, but how could he do that when allowing his brother to touch him like this was only making him more and more afraid of _Fred?_   He shook his head, and with a scared whimper, he pushed the other away.  He rolled over so his back was to his brother, and with his arms hugging himself tight, his body trembled worse than it had all week. 

Fred didn’t even try to fight back his own tears at this.  He ignored the semi-hardness that had grown only minutes beforehand and instead worked on pulling the covers over them both.  He didn’t make any attempt to get closer to the younger; he knew not to.  George was broken, and it was starting to look like even Fred wasn’t going to be able to piece him back together again so soon.


	2. Chapter 2

It was after Madam Pomfrey had kicked Fred out of the Hospital Wing for _both_ twins’ sake did he come across the one person he had been wanting so long to get his hands on – and it just so happened, after taking his brother to the infirmary to have his self-inflicted wounds tended to, he wasn’t in the mood for _just chatting_.

The corridors were unusually quiet.  He figured there just weren’t many classes on this floor scheduled around lunch, but he wasn’t complaining; it made grabbing the back of those green-collared robes easier as there was no one else around to stop and gawk and draw the attention of teachers to what was happening. 

He must have been a seventh year going by the other’s height; even at fifteen, the twins were towering over everyone else in their year so to have another student who was even taller than them…  Fred shuddered; no wonder George hadn’t been able to put up a fight and get away…

“What did you do to my brother?” Fred’s grip on the front of the other’s robes was tight, and he wasn’t going to let go easily; someone would have to cut his hand off at the wrist with a rusty hacksaw before he’d let this bastard escape unconfronted…

Long brown hair fell into the Slytherin’s eyes as a look of panic crossed his face, and it made Fred see red; how fucking _dare_ this kid be so big and tough to George, but a coward against someone he realised he wasn’t going to be able to stand over.  He’d never wished so badly before that George wasn’t so impossibly kind; maybe if he were just a little rougher, he’d have been able to stand up for himself and not allowed the other to hurt him so horribly… “I-I didn’t…  He _wanted_ me to fuck him!  I swear!”

If anyone had heard Fred’s scream, no one came to investigate.  “ _My brother would_ never _ask someone to abuse him!”_

The Slytherin’s pleas fell on deaf ears, and all Fred could do was allow his body to heave heavily with the anger and loathing that was only growing stronger by the second.  His hands trembled as he withdrew his wand, and for a brief second, he pondered; did he really have this in him, after all?  He shook his head, and his voice was deadly quiet as he growled, “It’s not a smart move to get on the bad side of someone whose father works at the Ministry; our dad tends to tell us more than he should…”

“Just leave me alone…  I’m sorry, alright?!” The taller male cowered; he was dealing with a loose canon, and the nice fuck he had gotten that night wasn’t going to be worth what the other might do to him.

Fred’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers squeezed his wand so tight, his knuckles went ghostly white.  “Not as sorry as my _brother_ is, I assure you that…”

“I don’t _care_ about your brother; just let me _go!_ ” He struggled desperately to break free, but all his struggling was doing was making Fred move ever closer to only get a more secure hold on him altogether.

“See, that’s the problem with people like you…” Fred had moved his face so close to the other’s own, his hot breath sent shudders down the Slytherin’s spine, “…you don’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you wanted in the end…  While you’re going about your day, carefree, my poor brother can’t even sleep at night without waking up screaming…  He doesn’t want to leave our dorm, he doesn’t want to go to classes, and he doesn’t even want to _eat_.  Because scum like _you_ exist, there’s blood all over Gryffindor’s bathroom and on the front of my robes and probably all through the corridors because I had to carry the poor thing to the hospital wing before he bled out from the wrists he slashed this morning…”

The older male’s eyes travelled down Fred’s front, and for the first time he did indeed notice the dampness of his robes, and splashes of red on unconcealed skin that looked to have dried by now.  He licked his lips nervously; should he kill the other here and now while there was no one around to witness it?  His hand twitched, but it didn’t otherwise move; it was too risky…  If it happened to be traced back to _him_ , he’d… 

No; the best option would be to let Fred do whatever he had planned and let the Weasley take the fall for him; the younger one wasn’t going to speak his name to anyone – he’d made _sure_ of that, and they couldn’t prove _anything_ this late – but this one here couldn’t be trusted.  

Fred raised his wand, and with it pointed at the other, he snarled, “ _Crucio.”_

Despite the agonised screams that echoed through the corridor, none of the satisfaction at avenging his twin he was sure he was going to feel was there; instead, all he felt was emptiness.  He watched the other student with cold, emotionless eyes as he kept his arm in the air; maybe he’d stop when the corridors filled the students on their way to their next class, but in the here and now, while they were alone, he wasn’t stopping for anything bar a natural disaster. 

From somewhere behind him, a door banged against the wall and footsteps rushed towards them.  He didn’t care to see who it was; all he wanted to do was watch the other writhe and scream and hope this was at least just a _tiny bit_ of how George was feeling – but no matter how hard he hoped, he knew nothing he could do to this piece of scum could come _close_ to the suffering his sweet little brother had been put through. 

“Mr. Weasley!”

It was McGonagall, Fred realized, and he had never heard her sound so panicked before.  He refused to break his concentration on what was happening before him, no matter how many times his name was all but screamed; McGonagall could wait. 

“Expelliarmus!”

Fred glared down at where his wand _had_ been.  Anger continued to swirl inside of him as McGonagall stepped between him and the other student; why did she have to show up now?  Why couldn’t he have had ten more minutes with this slimeball? 

“Mr. Weasley!” The old witch’s voice echoed, and even in his state, he couldn’t mistake the fear on her face.  His expression slowly filled with agony and realization as his shoulders relaxed and his eyes conveyed the storm within him, and it must have been that raw emotion that made a flicker of pain flicker across her own face as well.  “What do you think you’re doing, using an Unforgivable Curse on another student?!”

His voice was full of aching.  McGonagall didn’t miss that, and her eyes softened ever-so-slightly.  “He raped my brother.  He’s the reason my brother tried to kill himself today.  Because Georgie… keeps blaming himself for it.  Do you have any idea… what it’s like… to go check on your brother in the bathroom… and find he slashed both of his wrists with a _quill_ …?”

The woman was silent for several minutes.  The other student had long-since fled, leaving them alone.  Her voice fell quieter than Fred could remember hearing before.  “Be that as it may… What you just did is no better than his actions towards your bother.  I have no choice, Mr. Weasley; I have to take you to Professor Dumbledore’s office.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Fred…?”

It was the question George had asked three times in as many minutes as they walked slowly back to the Gryffindor common room.  Oliver Wood couldn’t blame his friend, though; George had been ruined… 

Oliver remained patient, though he wondered if it had something to do with the way the younger was fidgeting terribly with the sleeves of his shirt; was George planning another suicide attempt as they spoke…?  “Professor McGonagall asked for me to come and get you because Fred is still with Professor Dumbedore.”

George wanted to ask why his brother was with the headmaster, but his courage was failing him and all he could do was tug at his sleeves more and more as he trembled.  “…”

“How are you feeling…?” Trying to be as tender as he possibly could be about the subject, Oliver reached out to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder before he quickly thought better of it and pulled it away; after everything that had happened, he didn’t need to cause the younger more fear…  “Is the pain medication making you feel tired?  Sick?  I’m sure Fred won’t mind if you have a sleep until he gets back if you need it.”

George shook his head.  He swallowed thickly as his fingers toyed with the white bandages wrapped around both his wrists, all the way up to his elbows where he had dragged a quill through his own veins that morning after he had been unsuccessful in washing away the dirty feelings with a scalding hot shower that had left burns on his skin.  “I’m tired…  What time is it…?”

“It’s not long until noon.  Let’s get you back so you can have a sleep.” Oliver’s eyes moved to the bandages, and he couldn’t stop himself from cringing; he’d been the first on the scene after hearing the most gut-wrenching sound he’d ever heard come in the form of a scream from Fred in the bathroom.  There’d been blood everywhere, and he had only been able to stand in stunned silence and watch as Fred had grabbed clean towels to wrap around his brother’s wrists as he begged Oliver to help him get George back into his clothes so he could run him down to the hospital wing before it was too late.  He didn’t want to think about that, so he spoke about the only thing he was sure wouldn’t cause his friend any further distress.  Gently, he asked, “So when is Gryffindor getting our two best beaters back on the team, George?”

George stopped walking.  Tears welled up in his eyes.  Oh, he was a _terrible_ person…  He hadn’t even _considered_ Quidditch in so long; he must have let his team down horrendously…  A-and Fred…  Fred hadn’t left his side once except for today; what if Fred wanted to keep playing but wasn’t because of George…?  God, he felt so _guilty_ …! 

The younger male fell to his knees as he let out a sob.  He shook his head.  “I-I’m s-sorry…  S-so sorry…  You guys must h-hate us now…”

Oliver’s gaze softened, and he knelt beside his friend and shook his head.  “Shh…  No one hates you, George; we’re only worried…  Shh…”

George shook his head as his tears came harder.  “I-I took Fred away from the team…!  It’s all my fault…!  I’ve left you all with no Beaters a-and n-no chance of winning…!”

“George, _none_ of this is your fault!” Oliver promised.  “We understand!  _All_ of us do!  You need time to heal, and Fred needs to be with you – he’s suffered his own trauma from this, George!  He probably needs you as much as _you_ need _him!_ So don’t worry about Quidditch!  Focus on _you_!”

The younger male wiped at his eyes as he tried to will his tears to stop; he was so childish…  Crying all the time…  Over nothing…  No wonder he hadn’t been strong enough to stop himself from being… 

In a voice that quivered with heavy emotion, George said, “I-I’ll tell F-fred to p-play again…  I p-promise…”

Oliver sighed.  George had always been like this, thinking too much about other people rather than himself and what he needed.  He had always had a feeling it would get his friend into trouble one day – he’d just never thought it would be _this_ kind of trouble.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Fred finally got back to the common room.  He had been promised George was being looked after in his absence, but it hadn’t done anything to calm his nerves; what if someone accidentally left George alone and he tried to do something again…?  Would he be found in time…?

But thankfully, when Fred had finally gotten upstairs to his dorm and seen George wrapped tightly in his blankets, fast asleep, he turned around again and went back downstairs; how could he risk waking his brother up when he was finally sleeping so soundly? 

He didn’t know how long he had sat on the couch for.  All he knew was that, after what could very well have been an eternity, he heard someone coming down the stairs.  He looked over his shoulder and found Neville Longbottom approaching, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he did so.

Neville didn’t seem surprised to see Fred – in fact, he looked pleased, as if he had been checking periodically for the older twin’s arrival.  He gave a tired smile.  “Can’t sleep?”

“Don’t want to wake my brother up; he’s exhausted.” The dark bags under Fred’s eyes couldn’t fool Neville; Fred looked ready to fall asleep where he sat, and the younger hated to wonder if the twins were both getting enough rest through the nights.  “I’ll stay down here till morning; let him sleep…  I’ll sleep through breakfast once he wakes up…”

Neville cocked his head to the side.  While he _did_ know for a fact the twins always slept in the same bed, he still didn’t believe they were incestuous – and hell, even if they _did_ turn out to be, he didn’t think he’d judge them or see them any differently; they had always been rather kind to him, and he wasn’t one to abandon others.  “Why don’t you just sleep in the other bed so you don’t jostle him?”

Fred hadn’t even considered that; he had become so used to sharing his bed with the younger, he no longer remembered he could always sleep on his own if he _really_ had to.  He went to stand up to finally get some sleep, but he stopped at the younger’s voice.

“We were looking after him for you.” Neville gestured towards the staircase where everyone else was sleeping.  “You know, while you were with the teachers.  He kept crying for you.  We didn’t want to leave him alone while we all went to class, so I missed Herbology and stayed with him.  I’m not sure who brewed it for him, but someone gave him a potion so he won’t dream tonight.  He hasn’t woken at all since I’ve been checking on him.”

So that’s why Georgie was looking so peaceful, Fred realized; it was because he wasn’t reliving his assault for once… 

“Well, I’m goin’ back to bed; I just wanted to make sure you got back safely…”

“Neville.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s wrong to want to make someone suffer for hurting someone you love?” Fred remembered back to the curse he had cast on George’s attacker. 

Neville flinched, but Fred didn’t see the sudden pain etched on the younger’s face as the other had already turned to face the stairwell again.  “…Not really.  I mean… if I was in your position… I think I would have tried to kill them…”

That was when Fred wondered…  Maybe he had been wrong to use Crucio on that student; they had been more than deserving of Avada Kedavra.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for looking after him, Lee…” Fred slipped into the seat next to George’s in the library.  He tapped his twin’s thigh reassuringly before he reached out to take his brother’s unopened textbooks and open them to the chapters they were supposed to be basing several essays off.  “George, let’s get some work done.”

“Where did you go, Fred…?  I wanted to ask you something.” George’s trembling hand reached out to touch his brother’s arm, as if he needed to anchor himself to the other to be sure Fred wasn’t going to get up and leave him again.  “Why aren’t you playing Quidditch anymore…?  Is it because of me…?”

Fred was glad the younger hadn’t given him time to answer the first question; he didn’t want his baby brother knowing he had been hanging around the Slytherin common room to try and catch that student once again…  Instead, he smiled and said, “I haven’t been playing Quidditch because I’ve been wanting to stay with you.”

George shook his head.  “Please play Quidditch again…  Oliver said we don’t have any beaters for the team now…”

The older male took a deep breath; he couldn’t tell George he was honestly too afraid to leave the other alone…  But at least George was trying to pull away from the babying for once.  That was a good thing! …Wasn’t it…?  Or was it that George only wanted a chance to be alone to kill himself properly…?  Either way, he couldn’t bear the idea of arguing with his twin in this state. 

“I’ll find Oliver later and ask when the next match is.”

Fred had kept his word; in less than a week, he was flying around the Quidditch pitch, although he felt bizarrely naked without George flying next to him.  He swore Ronald had better be looking after him properly right now or he was going to…  George…  His eyes locked onto the Slytherin responsible for everything, and he froze as he whipped out his wand out and pointed it to the brunet.  _“Avada Kedav –_ “ 

There were screams and cries of shock as Fred was knocked from his broom by a bludger that had flown into the back of his head hard enough to spray the front row Slytherins with blood.  He fell to the earth below, with gore running so thickly from the back of his skull, it was clear even through his red hair. 

In the stands, Ron hugged George’s arm tight as he whimpered.  George, however, felt like he was frozen; it had been _him_ who had pushed Fred to play again, and look what had happened…

“George!”

George flinched at his name, but for the first time in a long time, Percy was talking to him, and looking at him without the disgust in his eyes.  The Head Boy was reaching out to George, and his eyes only held concern. 

“Ronald, come on; don’t look.  He’s hit the ground; it’s not pretty.  I don’t want you two seeing this.”

If Fred could see them right now, George pondered if the older twin may be proud that George wasn’t a crying mess; he knew he had been crying so much lately and it was unbecoming of him, but here, he could only walk on shaky legs as his face drained of all colour. 

“George.”

George locked eyes with Percy, and suddenly, his older brother felt as if he were swimming through the oceans of emotion in the twin’s eyes.  “…”

Percy’s lips mouthed words George could make out, but couldn’t hear as a deafening buzz filled his mind; _I’m sorry, George.  So sorry._

 

* * *

 

George had been remarkably calm for the two weeks his brother was unconscious.  Perhaps it had been the fact he hadn’t left Fred’s side once while in the infirmary and hence was finally able to relax without having to be crowded by other people.  He sat on the mattress by the older male, stroking his fingers through soft red locks as he stared out of the window and into the storm raging outside.

George hadn’t cried once since the bludger incident.  He still didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing, but he wasn’t going to ponder on it for too long; Madam Pomfrey was on her way over with a tray of food and medicine for the two of them. 

“I can feed him.” George accepted the tray, and disregarding all of the solid foods that were for him, he instead picked up the bowl of warm tomato soup so he could gently shovel it into Fred’s mouth and watch as the other slowly made progress through his meal.   

It was the third week of Fred’s unconsciousness when Dumbledore and McGonagall both walked into the infirmary together, batting not a single eyelash as they observed the way George fell out of the bed as he tried to scurry out of it before anyone had seen him curled up next to his big brother. 

Dumbledore was soft as he spoke, knowing how hard this was going to be for the younger twin.  “We have been in contact with your parents, Mr. Weasley.  They wish to advise you that they will be here to collect you tomorrow morning to bring you home.”

“Why…?” George threaded his fingers through his hair in anxiety.  He gestured to his brother, still wrapped in bandages that were often changed due to blood soaking through them.  “Fred…  Fred needs me…”

It was McGonagall’s calm, kind tone that helped keep George from tears; she held herself as such a stern woman, but he still saw through it and recognized the empathetic witch beneath it all.  “Your parents… wish to have your brother taken to St. Mungo’s where he can receive the treatment he needs.”

George’s mouth fell open.  “S-st. Mungo’s…?  Why there…?  Is he…  Is he dying…?”

Dumbledore and McGonagall both shared looks at this, and they hesitated before the witch explained.  “He’s not dying…  It is his _mental_ health that have your parents wishing to do this.  That day on the Quidditch field, he tried to use an Unforgivable Curse on another student.”

George shook his head.  He reached out to take his brother’s hand and hold it tight.  He whimpered.  “Fred wouldn’t…  Fred wouldn’t use curses like that on _anybody!_ ”

“Mr. Weasley…  I’m so sorry to inform you of this, but I previously encountered your brother using the _Cruciatus_ Curse on the student who…”

George flinched.  His tone was barely a whisper as he said, “ _He_ used Cruciatus on _me_ …  I didn’t want Fred to know…  I don’t want him to think I’m weak…  It’s why I didn’t try and run away that night…  He said if I tried to leave… he’d use it on Fred next…”

Neither Professor said anything at this; they _couldn’t_.  All that filled the infirmary were the sounds of McGonagall gently stroking George’s head as he sobbed so quietly, he may as well have just had hay fever. 

 

* * *

 

It felt comforting to be back with his mother after everything that had happened, George had to admit.  Ron and Percy, after receiving the news, had the spent the night with him, but now that he was back at the Burrow, George felt lost; suddenly, his bedroom felt much too big for just himself. 

“Mum…?” George found Molly sitting in the living room, knitting what looked to be scarves for everyone.  He sat next to the woman, with an expression on his face that conveyed just how lost he felt.  “Can I go see Fred…?”

“As soon as he wakes up,” Molly promised.  She sighed; though George had been the one tortured, it seemed to have effected Fred just as badly, perhaps even worse; the Fred she remembered would _never_ have tried to use an Unforgivable Curse on _anyone_.  “Why don’t you come grocery shopping with me today, dear?”

George shook his head.  “I just want to see Fred…”

Molly’s frown deepened; this was what she was afraid of…  “Soon, honey.  I promise.”

The first tears since his arrival leaked down her son’s face now.  “Mum…  I _need_ to see him and make sure he’s _okay!_ ”

Tears of her own wettened her cheeks as she abandoned her knitting in favour of reaching out to pull her son tight against her and hold him close.  “Honey…  Fred isn’t… _okay_ …  I can’t have him hurting you, too…”

So that’s what it was; Molly thought so little of Fred, she honestly thought his twin could ever harm him…  He pulled away from his mother’s embrace and stood up.  Beneath his tears, he hissed, “Fred… would _never_ hurt me, mum…  He _loves_ me, and I love _him_.”

“Sweetheart, with the state his mental health is in, he could very well –“

“-Rape me or something?” A bitter laugh escaped George’s larynx.  “Mum…  I _assure_ you, if he was going to _rape_ me, he’s had _plenty_ of chances to do so…  Just because I couldn’t… couldn’t stop _one_ person doesn’t mean… that _Fred_ wants to do the same to me, too!  The only thing that Fred’s guilty of is trying to get revenge for me…”

With that, George disappeared upstairs to the bedroom he had always shared with Fred.  He kicked away the loose notes of products they were still in the middle of making so he could instead curl up in Fred’s bed and try his hardest to smell the other’s scent on his pillow.  Tears leaked down his cheeks; why hadn’t he listened to Fred that day and never gone to meet his assaulter…?  He should have listened; look at what could have been avoided…


	3. Chapter 3

“Georgie…”

George hated hearing how weak his brother sounded now; he had been visiting every day since his twin had woken up just a week ago, and every time the older male spoke, he was slurred and slow and _confused_.  Molly and Arthur kept telling him repeatedly it was brain injury from the Quidditch incident, but he didn’t believe that; he had watched many times for himself just how many pills the nurses were constantly slipping his big brother, and he wasn’t sure why _anyone_ would need a bloody _pharmacy_ being shoved down their throats several times a day.

George sat on the edge of the bed next to his brother.  It was just them today; Molly was out shopping and would be back later to collect her second-youngest son because, for reasons he didn’t think he _wanted_ to know, Molly hadn’t visited Fred _once_ since she had popped in after he had initially woken.  It was a painful thing to ponder; why no one else in their family seemed to want to make the effort to visit Fred apart from George himself; couldn’t anyone understand that what Fred had done had _only_ happened because he _loved_ George and not because he was a twisted, evil human being? 

He reached out to thread his fingers slowly through red hair that had once been so soft and silky and _clean_ but was now grimy as testament to just how little support he was receiving at St. Mungo’s.  “Fred…  Fred, how are you feeling?”

Fred groaned.  He rolled onto his side so he could drop his head to his brother’s lap.  A grimace crossed his face as he slowly raised his hand to touch his temple.  He let out a groan and curled in on himself tighter.  “Like shit…  Got a raging headache…  It never goes away…”

The younger fingered the white bandage that remained wrapped around Fred’s head – why it was still there, he didn’t know as he knew full-well the physical damage could have been repaired well enough to leave only scarring behind; it was how Madam Pomfrey had treated his wrists that day...  He frowned.  “Mum says you have brain injuries…”

Fred snorted bitterly.  “Like hell I do, mate…  I’d be perfectly fine if they’d give me painkillers when I ask for them…  But they’re scared of me.  I can tell.  They don’t want to be around me any more than they have to be…”

It was true.  George had overheard the staff explaining to his parents once how they were always hesitant to care for Fred – all because Fred loved his brother and had been willing to protect George through any means necessary…  It was infuriating for him, really, to have so many people judging Fred over his actions when it should have been that Slytherin who was being judged… 

It was agonising.  Why was _Fred_ being the one to cop every bit of black-lash when _Fred_ hadn’t even been the one to rape and abuse and _torture_ another student…?  That student had gotten away with it _all_ without even so much as a talking to…  As far as George was concerned, Fred was his _hero_ for being the only one who cared enough to even _try_ and take George’s side through it all.    

“They whisper.” Fred’s own voice lowered into a murmur now.  “They want to see me sent to Azkaban…  I am a ‘risk’…”

“You’re not a risk,” George promised.  “You’re my _brother_.  What _he_ did…  _He_ deserved those curses…”

Fred nodded in agreement.  He spoke now in a faraway tone.  “…I really wanted to kill him, Georgie.  I wanted him to _suffer…_ Does that… make me a bad person…?”

“Of course not, Fred.”

“I would have killed him…  I’d have made him suffer as much as _you_ are suffering.  That’s why I could cast Crucio.  I _meant_ it, Georgie.  It was… the easiest spell I’ve ever casted.”

George’s fingers continued to thread through dirty red hair.  “Fred, if…  If _that_ had happened to you…  I think I’d have been able to do the exact same thing.  I _understand_.”

Fred turned his head to the side to look into his twin’s eyes.  He groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut tight as his head pounded against his skull furiously, but even so, he still reached out to ghost his fingertips against his brother’s cheek.  He forced his eyes open to look into his twin’s, and no words were spoken as they both leant inwards at the same time to press their lips together and kiss desperately.  Their tongues slid into each other’s mouths to taste everything they already knew so well, but their tongues never battled for dominance; instead, they only danced together in a tango they knew so well, it was second nature to them both. 

They broke apart for air when Fred found his lungs couldn’t hold out as well as they used to – probably a product of the ribs that had broken after coming off his broom and smashing through every damned wooden beam there was next to the Slytherin stand on the way to the ground, he figured.  Part of him was thankful he remembered nothing after the split second of searing pain in his head after impact; from the injuries he had been told he’d received, he didn’t want to be conscious to feel _any_ of it. 

“When is mum going to let me come home…?” Bitterness.  An emotion they both seemed to be living in now.  “I hate it here…”

“Mum doesn’t know…  The staff say… it’s too dangerous to let you come home…  They said to mum there’s a good chance you’ll cast all those curses on _us_ next…”

“…Hurt my little brother…?” Fred turned his head to meet George’s eyes.  He took the other’s warm hand in his and _squeezed_.  “I could _never_ hurt my baby brother…”

“I know, Fred.” George really did.  “ _We_ know.  But _they_ don’t.”

* * *

 

The school term was over, and though his siblings were back home with him for the holidays, Fred wasn’t.  George supposed it had something to do with just how depressed he had been without his twin around because, one early morning after Ronald had finally convinced him to come downstairs for breakfast and at least _join_ them even if he had no intentions of eating, he walked with his head held low into the kitchen before he startled at the sight of Fred sitting at the dining table, looking so very unwell, he may as well go join the ghoul that lived in their attic. 

“Fred!” George had run over and embraced his deathly-pale brother tight, though it broke his heart to have the other not so much as twitch in response; could Fred even _notice_ someone had their arms wrapped around him…?  He looked at his father with pleading eyes and asked, “What’s wrong with him…?”

Molly and Arthur looked at each other nervously before Arthur said in a tender tone, “Your mother and I agreed that Fred can come home for the holidays because we knew how lonely you’ve been without him…  However, the staff at St. Mungo’s were _very_ insistent we keep him heavily medicated just for precautions.”

“Precautions?!” George felt anger swell in his chest; he wasn’t one to get angry easily, but the more people spoke about his brother like he was Voldemort’s right-hand man, the more he found his temper reaching boiling point until he wanted to grab them all by the fronts of their shirts and shake them as he screamed how wrong they were to think Fred had it in him to bring harm to _anyone_ who didn’t deserve it.  “ _What_ precautions?!  Fred isn’t going to hurt anyone!”

The younger twin couldn’t bear to hear any more on this matter, and with all the strength he had left within him, he slung Fred over his shoulder and dragged the older male up to their bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, Fred,” George promised as he started the slow journey up the first flight of stairs, “I’m not going to cry anymore.  I was crying so much, it drove you into madness.  You couldn’t stand seeing me like that, and look at what it’s done to you.  But it’s okay now, Fred; you’re my brother, and I’m going to protect you, just like how you always tried to protect _me_.”

There was no response, but that was okay; George didn’t need to hear anything in this moment. 

It was once they were finally upstairs and in their bedroom did George relax.  He laid his brother down on the bed they always shared and tucked him in tight before he straightened back up and said, “I’m gonna go get your food; you’re so thin, Fred…”

Once he had come back downstairs and was standing in the dining room with his family again, he asked softly, “Mum…?  Why’s Fred… so quiet…?”

“They sedated him before they’d let us bring him home…” Arthur’s eyes closed as he sighed softly, as if George wasn’t the only person this caused pain to.  “Sorry, George…  It was the best we could do for you both…”

Molly nodded.  “He’s probably asleep right now, and if he is, let him rest; he’s going to need as much of it as he can get.”

“Okay…”

“Oh, and honey…”

George stopped again, with his back to his family and a single plate of food in his hands.  “…”

“Make sure he takes his medication…”

The plate clattered to the ground as George ripped at his own hair and _keened_ ; this was just too much; he had to get away now before his own _parents_ drove him as mad as he had driven _Fred_.  He snatched up the second plate of food by another empty seat he knew had been intended for him as it was such a tiny serving compared to the large amounts of food on everyone else’s plates; they knew it was pointless trying to feed George because he just wouldn’t eat anything anyway…

He rushed back up the staircase and made it to his bedroom in record time, where he was audience to the fact that his mother had been right in her assumption; Fred’s eyes were flickering before they finally closed, and George whimpered as he moved to jump onto the bed next to his brother and caress the other’s cheek.

“No, Freddie, don’t fall asleep!  You need to _eat!_ ” His thumb caressed pale, freckled flesh tenderly, and it was enough for the older twin’s eyelids to flicker again before they opened and he was presented with a dazed, _exhausted_ expression.  George gave a sigh of relief; if he could at least feed Fred _something,_ he would be okay with letting the other sleep.  “You…  You don’t have to eat everything…  Maybe even just this one egg will be enough…  Just please…  Eat _something_ for me, Freddie!”

Fred may as well have been a corpse with how silent and lax he was as he was moved into a sitting position to rest against the headboard of the bed.  His eyes kept closing, opening again only at the touch of George’s hands against his cheeks to wake him up.  He barely responded to the tiny bits of egg that were pressed against his lips on the fork; it was taking him seconds to even register it was there before he’d open his mouth and chew so slowly at it, Christmas was sure to have come and gone by the time he’d eaten it all. 

“Freddie, keep eating…” The egg finally disappeared from the plate, leaving only a single sausage and strand of bacon.  George cut up the sausage into tiny pieces so his twin didn’t choke, but as he did so, Fred had slipped off into sleep once again, and this time he wasn’t coming back out of it, as hard as George tried.

He finally gave up.  He moved the plate onto the bedside table so he could lay Fred back down on the mattress and tuck him in so tightly, he was sure to stay warm and comfortable for hours.  It wasn’t that the day was cold – in fact, it was rather warm outside and now that he was thinking about it, putting blankets over him might overheat him, but he didn’t want to look at how terribly thin his twin’s body had become until he was now nothing but skin wrapped tightly around sinew and bones.

He stood up and moved to sit next to the window on the other side of the room so he could stare out past the crop fields and to the tiny muggle village that was only just visible past the glimmer of the lake.  The silence of his bedroom that had been consuming him since his parents had come to take him home didn’t leave, even with Fred’s tiny breaths audible; in fact, it seemed to only grow louder.  No one in the Weasley family was used to silence coming from their room, especially not the twins themselves.  It had always been filled with laughter and explosions, but not now.  Not anymore.  But if anyone were to poke their head past the doorway and see Fred, fast asleep in the bed looking sicklier than anyone had ever seen him, and George sitting at the window with his arms wrapped around his knees in a tight hug and his chin on top of them, maybe they’d have understood. 

Fred slept all day.  George couldn’t blame his brother, even as it neared ever closer to dinnertime and he wanted so desperately for his twin to wake up and tell him nothing had happened and it was all just in George’s head – that he was just going crazy and _none_ of the events had ever happened aside from in his delusions.  No…  It was reasonable that it was probably calming for Fred to finally be somewhere he could relax and catch up on desperately needed sleep.  The younger twin frowned; if it weren’t for him, though, Fred would never have been taken to St. Mungo’s in the first place…

George stood up, and as silent as a mouse, he crept over to his brother to sit next to him and thread his fingers through soft red hair.  He gave a tiny smile; maybe if they could show everyone that Fred was okay…  That he wasn’t the monster they wanted to believe he was…  They would let him come home from St. Mungo’s permanently…

“Freddie…” The exhaustion that had been weighing him down for so long finally lifted at his brother’s proximity.  He laid down so he could curl up against his twin’s front and close his eyes.  “Freddie, I know you’re… not dangerous at all…  And I’m going… to prove that to everyone…  I won’t… let them think badly of you anymore…”


	4. Chapter 4

“Mum, can Fred and I go to Diagon Alley?”

Molly froze on the spot; after everything that had happened with the twins, she was afraid of letting them out of her sight – how could she live with herself if George was raped again, and _Fred_ …!  They couldn’t trust Fred to be alone like that so soon into his treatments; what if he yet again dabbled in those curses…?  “…I don’t know, honey…”

It was the look on her second-youngest son’s face that made Molly sigh; the poor thing looked so disappointed, and honestly, was it going to hurt to let him get some fresh air when he had barely been leaving his own bedroom…? 

“Please…?” George looked over his shoulder at the staircase leading up to their rooms.  “Fred wants to go…”

Molly’s concerned peaked; when it came to the twins, there were no, ‘ _I_ want’ or _‘he_ wants’; it had _always,_ without fail, been… _We want_.  Was this a product of George’s assault, or something to do with Fred?  She hated to think…

“If you will de-gnome the garden for me first, dear,” Molly promised. 

“Fred’s asleep again; I don’t want to wake him up to do the garden…” The boy frowned.  “He’s so tired…”

It was understandable; Fred had spent an entire lifetime holding both George and himself up; after everything that had happened, the older twin _would_ need all the rest he could get…  Molly brushed a single tear from her eye.  “Go and get Percy to help you, honey.  Oh, and Bill and Charlie are going to come home soon to see Fred; they should be here within the week.”

A brief smile crossed George’s face; he hadn’t seen his two oldest brothers in so long, and it would be fantastic to see them again – he just wished it had been under happier circumstances…  “Where’s Percy, mum?”

“He was in his room last time I saw him.”

George couldn’t say he wanted to do the garden with Percy; after what had happened back at Hogwarts, there had been an uncomfortable, awkward tension between them which had never seemed to get any better, even if Percy was now stomaching being in the same room with them and _looking_ at them again. 

In fact, as they stood outside in the garden together, the tension only seemed to grow thicker as they took opposite ends of the garden to work in and remained silent aside from the grunts of effort it took to toss the gnomes away.  George, who had made a conscious effort to keep his back to Percy to try and deal with the unresolved bitterness he hadn’t been able to completely banish, no matter how kind his older brother had been towards him since Fred’s Quidditch incident – it still hurt…  Hurt so damn _much_ to feel like there was something wrong with him – something wrong with _them_ at the way the older male had treated them both… 

He tossed a gnome over the fence, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realise Percy had been calling his name for half a minute now; he couldn’t help but worry if Percy still held the twins in ill regard, if he were only acting so nice and caring because he felt _sorry_ for George with everything that had happened.

“George!”

Or maybe… Percy was feeling personally responsible for everything and didn’t want the guilt weighing on his mind any longer.

It happened so fast, the twin would eventually ponder if he had ever moved so fast in his life.  But at the sudden, unexpected feeling of someone’s hand on his shoulder, he gave a startled whimper, spun around on the spot, and as hard as he could, his fist connected with the hard cheekbone in Percy’s face. 

 _“George!”_ Percy’s roar was sure to have disturbed everyone in a five-hundred mile radius.  Even Molly’s face was pressed up against an upstairs window to see what had happened, with her wand held tightly in case she needed to separate the two quickly.  His own hand had bunched up in a fist, ready to strike back, but when George gave a louder, more frightened whimper and crumpled in on himself, he frowned and allowed his hand to drop; George hadn’t meant it, and everyone knew better than to try and grab the younger twin now…  He took a deep breath.  “…Sorry…  I didn’t… mean to scare you…”

The younger shook his head.  He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.  “…S’okay…”

Percy fidgeted on the spot uncomfortably.  He hesitated before he asked, “…How’s Fred doing…?”

George shook his head.  “…He’s… okay…  He had another headache, and his pain medication put him to sleep again…”

Silence.  Uncomfortable, tension filled silence.  And then…

“Was it true…?” There was an emotion deep within the older male’s voice that George couldn’t recognize, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Huh…?”

Percy’s face paled.  He looked away.  “…What they were saying at Hogwarts…  You know…”

“Oh…  No, it wasn’t true…  Not really, anyway…  We just… get comfort in sharing a bed…  But we’ve never…  Never…”  It was when George started trembling did Percy realise how hard this was for his brother; after what had happened to the younger, it was probably harder than ever to have to endure these kinds of rumours again.   

“Don’t cry,” Percy comforted.  He stepped closer to wrap his arm around the other’s shoulders.  “Don’t cry; I was a…”

“A twat?  Y-yeah, you w-were…”

“…” Percy cleared his throat.  “…Yeah…  Sorry…  I should have… spoken to you two about it…”

George nodded in agreement.  He pulled away from his brother so he could instead grab at a gnome that was trying to sneak past them.  With his back to the older male once again, he muttered, “Maybe next time you won’t side with _strangers_ over your own _family_.  I’m done with the de-gnoming; I want to see Fred.”

Percy said nothing as he watched his brother leave; he should have expected the other was still going to be upset with him; he had _abandoned_ his younger brothers in a time where they would have needed him more than ever. 

 

* * *

 

“Now, you boys look after yourselves.” Molly’s fingers fidgeted with tightening the clasps of her twin sons’ cloaks.  She reached into her pocket and withdrew a tiny moneybag that felt so light, George immediately felt guilty; their family was probably going to go hungry for this…

“Mum…” George opened the moneybag, and his heart broke to see only a single gold piece and perhaps half a dozen silver.  He looked at Fred, who was giving him a stupefied expression in return, and gave the money back to his mother.  “It’s okay, mum; Fred and I still have a bit of money left over from our shop at Hogwarts; we’ll spend that instead.”

“No, no; it’s okay; take it.” Molly’s smiling face was full of nothing but love for her children, but George still recognized the pain in her expression; it really _would_ be terrible of them to accept that money…

Finally, for the first time since Fred had come home from the hospital, he spoke to someone other than George.  His voice was weak and slurred, and it was enough for George to instinctively reach out to touch the older male’s arm in a comforting gesture.  “I’s so’kay, mum…  You keep that…”

Molly could have cried, but not because the twins were both so seemingly broken; rather, they were always so appreciative of what little they all had and never complained.  She gave them both tight hugs before she stepped back and nodded.  “If you need any more money, then just let me know, okay?  Be safe!”

The journey to Diagon Alley was a quick one, and George was relieved; he couldn’t understand how Muggles got around everywhere without floo powder.  He glanced over at his brother who was right by his side, and he knew they both were relieved to have come when they had; it was quiet, and neither of them were in the mood to be jostled around by large crowds.

“What do you want to do first, Fred?”

Fred gave a groan as he lifted his hand to his forehead.  His eyes closed.  “Find painkillers first…  This headache is back again…  Damn floo powder…”

George nodded.  They ventured around on their own together in search of pain medication George knew they should have brought along with them, never once parting, and after finding it and doing a little bit of shopping, they stopped for lunch, knowing that just because Fred had gotten a tad more muscle back into his body didn’t mean he could wander around for hours and the first few minutes they had spent adventuring had worn him out to the point of needing a twenty minute rest. 

Despite the constant rest breaks his poor brother required after so little exertion, George couldn’t help but admire just how much more vibrant and healthy his older twin looked; the sickly, pale tinge to his skin was gone, and even through his constantly- _confused_ expression, his lips still tugged upwards into a smile for his brother. 

George relaxed; so it _had_ been all that medication St. Mungo’s demanded he take that had been causing all of the problems…  “I’m glad you didn’t argue with me when I said I won’t let you take any more of that medication the nurses give you…  You look way better without it, Freddie.”

As they took their seats in the tiny café they had chosen for lunch, Fred gave a weak laugh.  He shook his head.  “I don’t even know what it’s for; they won’t tell me.  They just… make me take it… and leaves me feeling so terrible…  Like I’m just so bloody lethargic…  No energy for anything…”

“I wish mum and dad would stop giving it to you, though…  You don’t need it, Freddie.”

A comfortable silence fell between them both now as they looked at their menus.  They soon gave their orders and, when their food came, they ate quietly.  Neither of them were particularly hungry; their appetites had all but vanished these days, but it still didn’t stop George from saying quietly, “Try and eat a bit more, Freddie; if you lose any more weight you’re going to be really sick.”

Fred glanced down at his plate with a queasy expression on his face.  He swallowed thickly.  “…Only if you try and eat more, too…”

It was an unspoken agreement between the two.  Their cutlery scraped against the plates as they tried to eat as much as they possibly could just to sate the other’s concerns, but before they could even come close to finishing their small meals, a chair was pulled out from the other side of the table and a man sat with them.

Fred’s eyes narrowed at the way his brother tensed badly; he knew George may never be able to recover one-hundred percent from the assault, but still…  He knew it was always going to hurt seeing the other looking so anxious.  “Who are you?”

The man had long, black hair and a scraggly beard.  His eyes were small and squinty, and he held a soft smile on his face.  Despite whatever kind persona this newcomer was trying to show, George shuddered; something wasn’t right, and it felt akin to the feelings that had churned in his gut he had foolishly disregarded after being given that letter all that time ago…

If they weren’t careful here, they were going to get hurt – this time, he wasn’t ignoring _anything_.

“Finally, I’ve managed to find the ever-elusive Weasley twins.”  There was a fake gentleness in his tone that George hated, and he wanted so badly to pull his wand out and do whatever he could to get the other away from his brother; he didn’t know how well Fred could protect himself now, and he wasn’t willing to find out.  “I’ve been looking for you two for a while, but it’s proved rather difficult as neither of you seem to leave your home anymore.  Am I correct in that assumption?”

“What do you want…” George’s growl was weak, but not as weak as the dazed look Fred seemed to be wearing more often than not lately; if this person had any ill intentions to Fred, his brother probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late to get away, and that thought _terrified_ George. 

The question was avoided as the newcomer clicked his tongue at Fred’s sudden wince of pain.  “Headache?  I can fix that for you.  Not permanently…  But for now, it’ll go away.”

“Who _are_ you?!” George was on the verge of shouting, but the last thing he wanted was to draw more attention onto them; maybe they should have just stayed home…

“S’okay, Georgie…” Fred blinked a few times as he tried to convey his thoughts.  “My headache’s gone…”

“You’re welcome.  Though if I were you, I’d go back and get checked out properly; I don’t believe St. Mungo’s has been particularly kind to you and I fear they have overlooked the damage that bludger caused.”

“How do _you_ know all this…?” Fred’s eyes closed as he tried to force his body to relax; now that he wasn’t focusing on a headache, his body felt heavy and weak and all he wanted was to lay down for a while so he could _sleep_. 

“We’ve had tabs on you two – Unforgiveable Curses do tend to draw quite a lot of attention.  I’d like to introduce myself but I’m afraid that will have to wait; I’m only here to give you two a proposition.  Which one of you _casted_ the Cruciatus Curse?  You’d be… _more_ than welcome amongst our ranks, regardless of your blood traitor statuses.  As for the one Cruciatus and Imperious was _used_ on…  Well, you’ve still been tainted by dark magic and I’m sure we can adapt you to join us, too.”

Fred frowned.  He looked at his brother with wide eyes.  “He used those curses on you…?  Why didn’t you tell me, Georgie…?”

The stranger gave a laugh.  “I’m sure he’d have been embarrassed.  From our understanding, he spent three hours under Crucio, three _long_ hours that left him a begging mess to just have the other kill him and get it over and done with.  As for Imperious…”

“ _Don’t_ tell him.” George hissed.  “If you tell him, I’ll –“

“-Your sweet little brother is so innocent, isn’t he?” The man chuckled at Fred before he turned back to George.  “There’s no need to be ashamed; you didn’t suck his cock because you _wanted_ to; you were under the influence of the Imperious Curse, and that excuses you from all further… _nasty_ deeds you did with him under it, too.”

Fred’s mouth hung agape; why hadn’t George ever told him this…?  “G-georgie…”

Tears threatened to fall down George’s cheeks, but he wasn’t going to let it happen; it was because he had been so weak, all of this had happened – and with Fred in this state, he needed to be strong enough to protect them both.  “I _never_ wanted him to know…!”

“Well, he knows now.  And might I add, if you don’t wish to join us _now_ , it will be wise to do so in the near future; that kind of magic marks a wizard for life, and you can try and fight it all you like but eventually it’s going to take you both over for good.  Perhaps you’ve both already seen the signs…  Just a word of advise, boy; it’s _much_ less painful to agree than it is to decline our offers; we only ask nicely _once_.”

George shook his head.  “Get away from us!  We’re _fine!_ We don’t want _anything_ you’re offering us, and we aren’t marked!  We aren’t…  We aren’t bad _people!_   Leave us alone!”

 But no matter how hard George tried to block out that man’s voice from his mind as he rushed Fred back to the fireplace to go home, he was full of doubts; what if…  What if he were _right_ …? 

He spent the rest of the day pondering over those words, telling himself Fred and he weren’t bad people and they had nothing to worry about because surely no one in their right minds would ask _them_ to become Death Eaters – everyone who knew the twins _knew_ they would be utterly useless and probably only get themselves killed on the first day…

But even so…

The clock on their bedroom wall said it was only half-seven, and yet it was already dark outside.  He looked over his shoulder from where he’d been toying with old notes of paper to look back on past experiments he had done with Fred, and though it was painful, it also made him happy to see his brother was already fast asleep, tucked under his blankets and resting peacefully; it’d be easy to slip out and find his dad and talk to the man about their day because if anyone would know what was going on, it would be Arthur.

“Dad…?” George knew he’d find Arthur in out the shed, tinkering with all his Muggle toys.  He shuffled foot to foot, and already Arthur knew something was bothering his son greatly.  He put down the rubber duck he was so fond of yet still couldn’t quite work out its purpose before he asked, “What’s wrong, George?  Is Fred okay?”

George nodded.  He looked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone.  “Fred and I went to Diagon Alley today, but someone approached us with a…  A really _curious_ offer…”

The man stiffened now; had it been Death Eaters…?  He’s bloody well hope not!  If Death Eaters ever came anywhere _near_ his family, he’d…!  He took a deep breath.  “Do you know what they were soliciting, George?”

“No…  He wouldn’t quite tell us…  But he was talking about Fred and I being tainted by dark magic…  About _tabs_ having been kept on us…  He seemed to know a lot about our situation…  Said they only ask nicely once before it’s less painful to say yes…”

“What was their name?” Arthur came closer to put his hand on his son’s shoulder in a protective manner.  “I can run checks on them first thing tomorrow.”

“They didn’t give us a name, and we’d never seen him anywhere before – he didn’t even _look_ familiar…” George looked to his feet.  “…Do you think…  He was a Death Eater, dad…?”

Arthur stayed silent for a long time so he could think logically.  His face twisted with oceans of emotion as he put all his facts together; he hadn’t heard any information of Death Eaters trying to recruit, not since Voldemort’s downfall, and from their understanding, he wasn’t any closer to making a return than he was ten years ago – and seriously, who tried to recruit two young, _damaged_ teens into such an organisation, anyway?  What purpose would Fred and George _honestly_ serve Voldemort?  If, for whatever reason they _did_ go to the dark side, he couldn’t help but be certain Voldemort would soon bring them back to the Burrow _begging_ Molly to take them back – that was what happens when dealing with two mischievous trouble-makers like Fred and George Weasley.

“I don’t think so, George.  But stay on your guard, anyway.  I can’t do anything without knowing who they are, but if they ever come back, I want you to tell me straight away so I can get the Ministry onto it.” At the look of relief on George’s face, Arthur squeezed the younger’s shoulder tightly and offered a tired smile.  “Now why don’t you go and check on Fred?  He’s due for his next lot of doses.  Be sure to give him something for his headache, too.”

George gave a tiny smile in return.  He nodded.  “Fred’s asleep, dad…  Can I give them to him if he wakes up?  I don’t want to wake him…”

“Of course.  Come and find me if you need me, George.  Goodnight.”

“Night, dad.” With a brief hug, George made his way back to the house, intending on laying awake for a while longer so he could listen to his brother’s steady breaths and hopefully have them lull him into his own sleep eventually.

 

* * *

 

“ _George_!”

George awoke with a yelp as his name was screamed through the night.  He leapt out of bed and hurried to the doorway so he could switch the light on; had someone gotten into their home to attack Fred as they slept?

Light filled the room, and George slowly relaxed as he found his twin sitting upright, panting heavily as he pulled at his hair.  He trembled violently, and all he could do was whimper, “I-I had a nightmare…”

“What about…?” George moved to sit by his twin’s side.  He wrapped his arm around still-shaking shoulders and dropped his head against the other’s soft hair. 

“…About you…” Fred’s hands rubbed at his sweat-soaked face.  “…W-what that guy said today…  I dreamt I could… could only watch…  And I couldn’t help you…”

“Fred…” George’s fingers reached out to stroke the other’s pale, freckled cheek.  He shook his head.  “Don’t worry about what happened to me…  R-really, Fred…  Please…  I don’t…  I don’t want to think about it… and neither do you…”

“It must have been horrible…” Fred knew his brother didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but he couldn’t stop himself; George must have suffered so terribly…  “You were… so scared when you came back to the dorm…”

“…”

“Are you _still_ scared…?” Fred’s eyes locked onto the younger’s now.  “You’re… so much better than you were at Hogwarts…  You must have been terrified to still be so close to him…”

“…” George’s eyes closed.  “…I’m still scared, Fred…  I just…  I need to be strong… for _both_ of us…”

Fred’s hand wandered down his brother’s side.  His voice cracked.  “I need… _comfort,_ Georgie…  Is it okay…?”

“…”

“Georgie…?  If it’s going to make you remember, then I don’t –“  His words were cut off by a pair of lips against his own.  He relaxed; Georgie probably needed this as much as he did…

Their kiss was desperate tonight; a welcome change from the gentle, loving passion they had usually kissed with prior to everything that had happened.  Their tongues danced together as they whimpered and moaned, and their hands grabbed at each other everywhere they could to become so impossibly close, they may as well have just become one.

“G-george…” Fred broke the kiss and gave the younger a desperate look at his hands tugged at the bottom of his brother’s shirt.  George didn’t hesitate to shed it and lay down on his back so the other could lean over him and kiss and caress every inch of his chest. 

It was their lower garments that was the problem.  Neither of them were particularly hard, and though they didn’t mind, it was trying to take George’s pants off where the problem lay. 

“F-fred, I…!” Never had George had problems with taking his pants off for his twin – not until…  His hands held tightly the hem of his pants to keep them in place, and he couldn’t look his brother in the eye; how could Fred still want to be so close to him?  He was…  He was absolutely _disgusting_ …

Fred didn’t need to be told what George was feeling; he only engaged the younger in another kiss as his hands caressed the inside of George’s thighs through the fabric of his pants.  He pulled away.  “If you think I couldn’t bear to be so physically intimate with you anymore because of what someone else did to you, you’re so very wrong, Georgie…  I want to wash away everything that makes you feel impure.  I want to rock you gently along the mattress and fill you up with my come after spending the night making love to you.  I want to kiss you so deeply and so passionately, you black out from it.  I want to be able to replace _everything_ he did to you so if you ever look back on it, instead all you can think about is how much I love you and how I could _never_ hurt you.  I couldn’t force you into anything; I want to wait until you’re ready.  But when you finally are, I’ll make so much love to you, you’ll forget what it feels like to be forced.”

Tears slid down George’s cheeks.  He sobbed loudly as he pulled the older male back in for another kiss.  He didn’t shy away from the hand that rested atop his crotch on the outside of his pants, and though he flinched slightly when it started to move, he didn’t stop it; he only pulled Fred closer until he was laying beneath his twin, moaning and panting and _writhing_ as he became hard for the first time in _months_ , and when he came inside his pants, Fred followed behind with a grunt of his own.

 

* * *

 

“You’re looking so much better today, darling!”

George looked across the dining room table.  He frowned; his parents would be so angry with him if they ever found out Fred was only looking so healthy because he hadn’t been taking his medication at all… 

“Sweetheart, look who arrived here in the nigh – F-fred…?”

George’s mouth fell open as he stared down at his twin on the floor; sure, Fred had been walking wobbly for a couple days now, but he had never outright lost his balance and collapsed to the ground like this.  He went to stand up and move to Fred’s side, but he stopped at the blood curdling scream his mother made.

“Fred…” George swallowed thickly the lump in his throat as he looked at all the blood that was quickly escaping through his brother’s nose and ears as his twin writhed and thrashed as if he were being burnt alive.  His heart stopped; what if this was his fault because he hadn’t been giving Fred his medication…?  What if, amongst all those different kinds, there had been a medication prescribed to stop _exactly_ this from happening…?  “Fred, I-“

“-George, no!”

George trembled as someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him against a warm chest.  His eyes filled with tears as he recognized Charlie’s scent; his older brothers must have gotten here after he had gone to bed, and now look at what was happening… 

“George, don’t look.” It was Bill speaking now, George recognized.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight, not wanting to see what was about to happen. 

“Mum’s taking him to St. Mungo’s; he needs treatment.” Charlie tried to drag his baby brother away from the scene, but all it caused was for George to start screaming and thrashing to get by his twin’s side. 

“I’ll take him.” With that said, Bill effortlessly grabbed George and carried him upstairs to the twins’ bedroom. 

It was horrible, waiting what had felt like an eternity for his parents to come back home, and when they did, George wanted to curl up and die at what happened next.

“He went into multiple seizures…” Arthur squeezed his wife’s hand tight as if to steady his emotions.  “They operated on him; he had a depressed fracture in his skull…  It’s been pressing on his brain this whole time…”

And then, Molly’s yelling filled the room, so loud George was sure the house was in danger of collapsing.  “ _You weren’t giving him his medicine, were you, George?!  Even after we told you to make sure he takes it!  You almost_ killed _him!”_


	5. Chapter 5

“I didn’t know… some of it was for his injury…” George stared down at his lap as he whispered to Harry and Ron, the two sitting in Ronald’s room together.  “Mum…  I honestly thought… all the medicine was to sedate him…  Honest…  Mum always… always made it sound that way…”

“You didn’t know…” Harry reached out to put his hand on his friend’s knee as a comforting gesture, but all it accomplished was earning a whimper from George and for the older male to pull his knees away from the younger’s hand and to his chest to hug them tight.

“D-don’t touch me…  P-please…”  George wiped at his eyes.  “J-just…  No m-more…”

“Only mum and Fred can touch George now…” Ron’s eyes held a thick sadness as he observed his brother.  “Everyone else…  he gets scared of…”

“Sorry, George…” Harry frowned.  He looked to Ron, and then back to George before he said, “You can stay in here with us if you want – so you don’t get lonely.  Ron and I were even thinking of going to into London together, and you can come with us if we do.”

George shook his head.  “I don’t want to go to London…  But if Fred can’t come home tonight…  Can I sleep in here with you guys…?”

“You know you can, mate,” Ron promised gently.  “We don’t bite.”

The younger twin stood up at that.  “I’m going to go see him…  Make sure he’s okay…:

True to his word, George found himself sitting beside his sleeping brother’s side.  He wasn’t sure how long he had been there for, but when he heard the door opening behind his back, he didn’t turn around; Molly had told him that morning she was going to go see Fred when she could spare the time. 

“Did the nurses say how long he’s going to sleep for?” George’s trembling hand threaded through his brother’s hair, and he tried not to shudder as his skin ghosted against raised scars on the top of his brother’s head that signified where he had had surgery.  …Come to think of it, Fred’s skull _did_ feel strange…  Like it wasn’t sitting properly...  “He’s going to wake up again soon, right…?”

“We wouldn’t know.”

It was a voice he had never heard before that had the younger twin whirling around to see who had spoken.  He swallowed thickly at the sight of that same man who had sat with them at Diagon Alley, accompanied by another male who, while George _knew_ he had never seen the other before, could swear he was the spitting image of the same student who had assaulted him all that time ago. 

George scooted closer to Fred’s side, and despite the anxiety that was gnawing away at him, he steeled his gaze and barked out, “What do _you_ want?”

“Just checking if you’ve made your choice yet.” 

“You never told me what you wanted us for, and I don’t think I really _care_ to know because I’m going to say no chance in hell _anyway!_ Leave us _alone_!  I’m not in the mood for this; my brother’s in hospital again!”

It was the man who looked so much like his attacker – a Prescott, George remembered, though he had tried so hard to block the name out lest he ever accidentally let it slip and cause even more trouble for himself – who sniggered and said, “Dear boy, you _know_ you know what we’re talking about.  Don’t play silly; Robert has told me all about just how bright you are; it was one of the reasons he was attracted to _you_ rather than your… mirror image.  Your brother is the impulsive one who comes up with all the ideas whereas _you_ are the logical one – the one who actually _thinks_ and uses their _brain_ to problem solve.”

George shuddered; why was he being forced to remember so many details he’d rather forget completely?  He didn’t _want_ to remember his assaulter’s name or anything _about_ him!  He just… wished he could forget…  “…Why me…?  We look exactly the same…  He didn’t even _know_ us to know our differences…  He would have only seen us from a distance – and even then…  Why _me…_?”

His assaulter’s father sniggered again.  “I just told you why, boy.  It’s _much_ more appealing to go for the one far too dependent on the other – when it comes to breaking them, it’s _so_ much easier than someone who thinks for themselves.  Tell me; have you _ever_ done something without your brother?  Left his side _once_?  You follow him around like a lost puppy; you depend on his direction so much, you’re _lost_ without him there to tell you what to do.  Do you even _know_ how to think for yourself or have you always relied on him to do that for you, as well?”

“Stop bringing him down, William; I’m sure he already knows how much of a sheep he is - we’re here for our orders.” It was the man who had approached them in Diagon Alley that day, and when all attention turned back to him, he smirked slightly.  “Surely you realise by now you don’t have much of a choice?  It’s simply…  Well, it hurts far less to consent rather than have to be _forced_.  If you’re still insistent on saying no, I’m sure we can make you change your mind.  You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your _family,_ would you?”

William Prescott’s wand was suddenly pointed at Fred, and all George could do was yelp, “No, wait!  Please, don’t hurt him…!”

“You’ll join us?”

“No…  I just – _No!  Please!_ ” George felt so powerless as he threw himself forward to push the wand away from his brother; he had stupidly left his wand at home, and he knew he couldn’t stand a chance if things were to turn ugly here.  “I’m not joining you, and I’m _not_ letting you hurt my brother!  Our father is already aware of you having tried to solicitate us once before!  I know your son’s name; I can tell my father _everything_ and he’ll have the Ministry on your doorstep before the day ends!”

William gave a hearty laugh as he reached into his pants pocket to withdraw several photos.  “If we were concerned about the Ministry, we wouldn’t be Death Eaters now, would we, boy?  Robert wouldn’t have given his name to the student he _beat_ and _raped_ and _tortured_.  You hold no power over us, but _we_ have power over _you_.”

George took the photos he was being handed, and once he realised what they were, he slapped a hand over his mouth in horror.  “You _wouldn’t_ …”

“I _would_.  Especially if you try and _threaten_ me again.” William’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his wand to Fred once more.  “Just for your _insolence,_ your dear brother will be the one to pay the price.  _Crucio!_ ”

Despite his unconscious state, Fred’s face scrunched up in agony as his body started to writhe and loud cries of pain left his lips.  The curse only lasted for five seconds, but to George, it felt like an eternity had passed, and he sat quietly on his heels like a good boy now.

“Are you listening to me now, boy?” William smirked.  He tapped his wand at the photos, against one in particular that showed the twins in a _very_ intimate position the morning of the Quidditch match that had costed Fred his wellbeing.  They had been leaving Astronomy class to get ready, but the spiralling staircase where they had sat together, embracing tightly as they made out, had been void of all other life – so who… and _where_ had this photo come from…?  “It will be in your best interest to do as we say – unless you want these getting around.  You know what’ll happen if they’re distributed, don’t you?  Your entire family will be torn apart.  Your father will lose his job, and not a single member of your family will ever be able to show their faces in public again without the judging, the _disgust_ and the _loathing_.  And your brother?  You know as well as we do that two men are _not_ accepted together – least of all, _brothers_.  People find out about you two, and we probably won’t even get the _chance_ to kill him ourselves as someone else will for it for us.”

George flinched.  If those photos got out, his family would be ended completely…  “…”

“What are you thinking, boy?”

He flinched again at their voices.  He looked to Fred, hating to see the pained expression that was still on his face, accompanied now by sweat rolling down his face and blood quickly staining his pillow red.  His eyes widened; he didn’t want anything to happen to Fred, but he knew that the more he tried to “protect” his twin, the more it was only going to get him hurt.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight.  “…”

“Crucio.”

“ _Stop!_ ” George threw himself over his twin in hopes that him shielding his brother’s body would somehow deflect the curse onto him instead.  “Stop, stop, _stop!_ I’ll join!  But _please,_ not my brother!  You’ll leave my brother and the rest of my family _out_ of this!”

Again, Fred’s unconscious body fell limp once more as the curse was lifted.  There were twin smirks on the men’s faces now – to see them resembling how alike he and Fred always looked made him feel sick to his stomach and he found himself wishing they hadn’t been born twins. 

“Your _brother_ has far more potential than you could _ever_ hope to have,” William mocked.  “He’s already proven himself capable to the Dark Lord whereas _you’re_ just a pathetic _nobody_ who begged for death under just five minutes of the Cruciatus Curse.  _Five minutes!_ If we can only leave here today with _one_ of you, we should just kill you here and now and take your brother with us.”

At the horrified expression on George’s face, the man who had stayed so quiet up until now finally spoke again.  “Oh, now, now, William, I’m sure the boy here _does_ have it in him; he almost succeeded in killing his own _twin,_ after all.  I’d bet my ass on it that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing by not giving his brother the medication.  We can train him; it might just… be a _challenge_ to break him of everything that makes him such a pathetic blood traitor.  His brother, however, would be _very_ fun to adapt to us; he would break _so_ easily in this state.”

“No!  You can’t!  Fred doesn’t have it in him to… to be a… a Death Eater…  Please…  I’ll do anything you want; just leave my family out of this!”

“He’s got courage!  No wonder all those blood traitors end up in Gryffindor.  What do you say, James?  Let’s try him.  If we can’t get him to stop being a pussy, we can always kill him and take the other one.” It was William who had spoken, and without waiting for his comrade’s approval, he turned back to George.  “Give me your arm, boy.”

George flinched as his arm was snatched from his side and his sleeve rolled up.  He scrunched his eyes shut tight and looked in Fred’s direction as he whispered, “If I do this… promise you won’t harm my brother…”

All that answered him were laughs.  He flinched and cried out at a sudden searing pain in his arm, and tears slipped past his closed eyelids, but he wasn’t going to look; he knew if he did, he was going to vomit – hopefully that disgusting mark would _never_ be visible on his skin…

It was a kind of pain that made George wish he could cut his arm off at the shoulder so he didn’t have to feel it anymore.  He sobbed, but just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the pain vanished and his arm was dropped back to his side.  He sniffed and cracked his eyelid open. 

“When that mark reappears on your skin, you’re being summoned.  It’s best you show up, boy; the Dark Lord can be very… _unforgiving_.”

As suddenly as they had arrived, George was alone with Fred once more.  He wiped at his eyes; Fred could _never_ find out about this, no matter _what_. 

“I’m sorry, Fred…” George wiped at his damp eyes.  “I’m so sorry…  I just…  I couldn’t let them hurt you…  I know you’d have sacrificed yourself for me as well; I just… I…  I-I can’t… lose you…”

No matter how much he wished for a reply, the room remained silent as Fred slept on, oblivious to the fact that his _twin_ had just become a Death Eater. 

 

* * *

 

Ron’s room was cosy, George was finding.  It was much smaller than the one he shared with Fred – probably because the twins were the only siblings who had ever shared a room – but it was cosy, and it was comforting.

It was perhaps the only time in so many years all the brothers – minus Fred, who was most likely still snoozing away at St. Mungo’s – were gathered together like this, but there was good reason for it; something wasn’t right tonight, and it was unsettling.

Ron was standing by the open door that led from his bedroom out to the balcony.  His back was against the frame as he held his arms across his chest and stared up into the dark night sky that was sending chills down his spine not entirely from the cold air.  “You guys feel it too, right?  Like something bad is on its way.”

George, who was curled up in Ron’s bed with Charlie by his side, closed his eyes.  He tried to focus on the warm hand soothingly caressing his hair, but it was hard to ignore the conversation; were they onto him already?  What would his family think if they ever found out…?  Would they understand he had only done it for their wellbeing…?  Or would he be disowned, never welcomed back by any of his family members, and left to live a life of agony…?

Percy spoke from where he sat in the corner by his lonesome, polishing his Head Boy badge.  His tone was faraway, as if he weren’t quite in the zone just yet – or maybe… he _didn’t want_ to be in the zone and would rather pretend everything was fine…  “Mum and dad should be back soon…  They wouldn’t have left us here alone if they thought something bad would happen.”

“I don’t know about that, Percy…” It was Harry’s quiet, hesitant voice that snapped George back to reality.  “I feel like he’s coming…  Like he’s _close_ …  Like he’s… already here…”

George’s heart sunk; Harry _knew_ …  Oh, god, he _knew_ …  He raised both hands to his face to claw at his face and draw blood as his body trembled violently with withheld tears; they were all going to _hate_ him…

“George?” The bed sunk further with Bill’s weight now as he joined Charlie in trying to soothe their baby brother.  “George, don’t cry; you’re safe.  We’re all safe.  Nothing’s going to hurt us here.  Charlie and I won’t let _anyone_ get hurt; we promise.”

But despite what the others all wanted to believe, George knew better; if the Death Eaters were recruiting already, it wasn’t going to be long before Voldemort made a return.   

“Why’s he crying like that…?”

“I don’t know, Percy; he must be afraid.”

“Ron, don’t touch him!  You’re going to scare him more!”

“But _you_ are touching him!  You’ve been playing with his hair all night!”

“He _trusts_ Charlie, Ron!  Leave him to us!”

“Oh, like he doesn’t trust _me!”_

“Damnit, Ronald, you just made him cry more!  Keep your hands off him!”

“Shut up, Percy!”

“Stop fighting, guys!”

“ _Shut up, Bill!”_

The arguments that were quickly breaking out between the Weasley brothers were only making George cry harder; it was all _his_ fault this was happening – if only he had been strong enough that night to have not been raped…


	6. Chapter 6

When George found out that his father had gotten all his children tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, he was the happiest he had been in a long time – the only problem was, as much as he wanted to share his excitement with Fred, it was going to be difficult.

“Wha’s that…?” Fred’s drowsy voice came from his bed, where he’d been spending almost all his time due to the soreness and weakness all over his body from his badly damaged nervous system.  He tried to roll onto his side to see his twin clearly now that the younger had joined him on the mattress and was speaking to him, but he quickly gave up when it proved too challenging to coordinate all his heavy limbs properly.  “Wha’s Quidtch?”

George reached out to pull his brother up so they could both lean against the headboard and talk.  He leant across to the nightstand in between their two beds to grab one of their favourite books, _A History of Quidditch._ He opened it and laid it flat on his lap so the other could see. 

He had to admit it was so fucking painful to try and retrain all of Fred’s memories, his ability to learn, and his goddamned _motor skills_ , but he knew it was his fault his brother had suffered severe cognitive impairment; if he had just given Fred his medication…

He shook his head; now was no time to dwell on the past.  He pointed to the moving pictures and said, “Quidditch.  It is – umm… _was_ – our favourite sport.  We played Quidditch when we were in school.  We were beaters.  Remember, Fred?”

“Bea…ters…” The word rolled off the damaged male’s tongue with difficulty.  He frowned and shook his head.  His reply was as slurred as they always were these days, and George had to pay extra attention to make sure he was hearing correctly.  “Don’ rem’ber…”

George offered a pained smile.  “That’s okay; maybe you’ll remember when we watch the game.  It’s tomorrow night, so we’re going to leave early in the morning.  Dad said we’ll have to be up before the sun rises, and I still have to get our stuff ready…  Sorry, Freddie; I should have packed ages ago…”

Fred looked down as he felt shaking hands fumbling with straightening out his pyjama shirt suddenly.  They were George’s hands, and they hadn’t been shaking just ten seconds ago; was his brother cold?  _He_ didn’t feel cold…  He cocked his head to the side.  “I have to go…?”

“Well…  You don’t _have_ to go…  But…  I…  I, uh…” George closed his eyes as his fumbling only increased; the Freddie he remembered would _never_ have asked this question when it came to seeing the Quidditch World Cup...  He whispered weakly, “It’s okay; you can stay here with mum if you want…  You don’t have to come if you don’t want to…”

The older male shook his head.  He reached out with a hand shaking from effort and touched the back of his brother’s hand that had started smoothing invisible creases from his freshly-washed pyjama shirt.  “I’ll… come…  I want… to come.”

George’s smile finally reached his eyes now.  His hands grabbed the other’s shoulders and gently laid Fred back down in bed, as if he were something so fragile, he would shatter into a million tiny pieces if he weren’t careful.  “It’s getting late, and we have to get up very early.  Why don’t you try and get some sleep, Freddie?”

Fred shook his head.  “Not tired…”

George grabbed the abandoned Quidditch book again and helped his brother curl his fingers around it properly.  “Then how about you look through this and try to learn everything again?  You can enjoy tomorrow night if you understand everything properly.”

“Georgie…” Fred gave a frustrated moan.  He shook his head, and though his lips moved with unspoken words, in the end all he said was, “Georgie…!”

George clicked on quickly; Fred couldn’t read anymore, and if he might, it was at a very low standard.  His smile never faltered; instead, he made himself comfortable beside his brother as he took the book back.  “Right, Freddie.  Listen up.  I’ll read it all to you until you can fall asleep.”

Fred gave a content smile as his body relaxed; George could be talking to him about the colour of the sky and he would still find himself in tranquillity.  He slowly rolled himself onto his side again – accomplished only with the help of George’s hands that felt so nice on his sore, aching body – and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder so he could look down at the book and understand what George was telling him about.  He gave a contented purr when an arm hooked around his waist and held him close; from the second he had woken up in St. Mungo’s, with absolutely no memory of what had happened or even where he was, nothing had felt more perfect or natural to him than being wrapped up in George’s arms.     

“Beaters.  We were beaters, Freddie.  And the beater’s job is to…”

George knew most people in their position would find it extremely depressing to have to explain _everything_ all over again as if they were educating a toddler, but he didn’t mind; in fact, he swore it was bringing them closer than ever; Fred, who hadn’t even remembered George after an undiagnosed skull fracture had eventually caused so much bleeding and swelling in his brain he had been on death’s doorstep, had instantly chosen his twin as the person he liked the most, the one he wanted to be with him at all times and help him with things he had once done with ease but could no longer attend to on his own. 

In fact, he preferred it this way; his brother was so innocent and no longer remembered painful things – and if George could remain strong and do everything he could, he knew he may never need to see his brother’s sad face ever again.

“Geor…gie…”

George looked up from where he had been explaining all about the rules of Quidditch, and he smiled again when he realised Fred had long-since fallen asleep and was talking in his sleep.  He chuckled, and after closing the book and ever-so-carefully moving out from beneath his brother, he put the book away and turned off the bedroom light so he could instead turn the lamp on and start packing their bags.  Day clothes, pyjamas, snacks, and of course, multiple pain medications just in case Fred were to get another debilitating migraine tomorrow night; it was certainly going to be loud enough there, and he pondered if maybe his dad would know someone who was going to be there who could cast a charm for Fred to stop him getting any migraines – if at least, only for tomorrow night…

He looked at their binder full of notes for their products, laying abandoned in a corner of the room with dust quickly growing over the cover, and he wondered if maybe he should take it along and work on something with Fred, just like in the old days.  He grimaced and turned away; no…  Maybe they could come up with new ideas in the coming weeks, but not tomorrow night.  He didn’t want to work on anything tomorrow night, and maybe not even the day after.

That was the first true, tell-tale sign he was suffering depression, and what did George do?  He disregarded it and told himself he _would_ work on something with Fred soon; just not any time in the next few days…

 

* * *

 

Fred sat quietly at the table in their tent the next night.  He smiled to himself as he watched his brothers and their friend – he’d forgotten the black-haired boy’s name again – run around the tent, screaming and cheering about the Quidditch match.  He knew they were all excited, but no matter how hard he had tried to mimic George’s joy, it was proving difficult when he still couldn’t comprehend what he was supposed to be excited about.

It was Arthur, who had just come back to the tent with Ginny and… and… Hermione?  Fred was sure it was Hermione…  Arthur, who had just come back smiled brightly at the youngsters who looked so happy together – even Percy, who was usually such a stick in the mud, was having fun.  His smile dropped, however, when he found Fred sitting so quietly on his own; didn’t Fred want to join in on the festivities?  Or was it… something else…?

“Fred?” Arthur took a seat next to his son.  He smiled as he wrapped his arm around the younger’s shoulders and held him close; no matter what had happened, he would always love his children.  “Why aren’t you with your brothers?”

Fred shook his head.  “Dun’wanna…”

“Why not?” Arthur looked back to the small group, thankful to see that while everyone else was still acting like a child, George had noticed his twin’s absence and was slowly approaching them; he could always count on George to stick by his brother’s side, that was for sure.  “You can join them, Fred.  They’d be very happy.”

Fred shook his head again.  His head dropped to his father’s shoulder and he gave a heavy sigh; how did he explain how out of place he felt, being here with people he knew were his family yet he didn’t even remember?  He was uncomfortable, and he felt as if he didn’t belong, like they wouldn’t want him joining in on their excitement and it was something sacred he might have once shared with them, but no longer had any _idea_ of.  “…”

“Freddie?” George knelt and put his hand on his brother’s knee.  He smiled, and though he opened his mouth to say something else, he was quickly cut off by screams and bangs coming from all around their tent.  “Dad?”

Arthur stood up, and with him he pulled Fred to his feet.  George went to follow, but he almost collapsed as his arm begun burning as if he had put it in a pool of lava.  He stifled a whimper, not wanting anyone to notice, and rolled his sleeves up slightly.  Sure enough, glaring back at him was the mark that had been branded onto him.  He sniffed and pulled his sleeve back down, not wanting to look at it. 

But the only problem was, if he ignored whatever this was for, his family may be the ones to pay the price…

“George, you take Fred!” Arthur was leading them all from the tent now.  “Bill, Charlie, Percy; you look after everyone!  Stay together!”

George felt sick; as much as he wanted to take Fred and flee with his siblings, he knew he couldn’t – and if he had been tied down with Fred, he… 

He grabbed the back of Ron’s shirt before the younger could escape and carefully dropped his twin into the younger’s arms.  “Ron, you take Fred; I…  I have to do something…”

“Are you bloody _mad?!”_ Despite his words, Ron still took Fred as his brother was leant against him.  “What are you doing, running back into all that mess?!  Come with us!  I can’t carry Fred by myself!”

“Seriously, Ron, just take him!” It was rare for George to snap at people, but here he was, stressed beyond his limits.  “I…  I can’t look after him tonight!  Now go!”

“I’ll tell Bill!” Ron promised.  “Bill will come looking for you, and if he gets hurt, it’ll be on _you_!  Just like it’s on _you_ that Fred is the way he is!”

George took his wand out and pointed it to his brother’s face now.  His eyes narrowed, and he growled, “You tell Bill _anything,_ and I’ll curse you when we get home…  If he asks where I am, you tell him we got separated, but _not_ that I ran back!”

Ron’s eyes widened, and George could see the fear in his brother’s eyes, but it still didn’t stop the younger from screaming, “Bill!  Bill, help!  Something’s wrong with George!”

It was when Bill and Charlie spun around to see what was happening, and Bill pushing Ginny into Charlie’s arms so he could run back throughout the chaos did George flee; he couldn’t afford to be found out here, and he had to get _away_.

Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to shake Bill off his tail; with all the confusion around them, all it took was pushing through several hordes of fleeing victims before Bill lost track of him, leaving the twin to wander through the destruction by his lonesome.  He scared; he didn’t know what to do, but he had to at least _try;_ his family’s safety was counting on it…

It was, by luck, the dark mark was soon cast into the sky, giving him a direction to run in.  He felt so hopeless as he stepped over dead bodies and abandoned possessions; how could _anyone_ have asked this of him…? 

“You!”

George whimpered when he was grabbed roughly by the shoulder and slammed against a tree trunk.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight and looked away, hoping he could at least block out what was about to happen. 

“You’re our newest recruit, aren’t ya?” There was a snigger before the male voice continued.  “A Weasley?  And a bloody pathetic one at that.  Where were you hidin’ while we all did the dirty work?”

George couldn’t help but stutter. “I-I didn’t know!  No one told me about tonight; I was taken by surprise!  My mark didn’t start hurting until _after_ the attack started, so I rushed out to help but I was too late!”

There was hot breath on George’s ear, and he couldn’t help but shudder; why was the other so close to him…?  “No…  You’re not too late, boy.  You just need… _educating_.”

The redhead whimpered as his wrist was taken in a strong grip and he was tugged away towards the tree.  It was too dark to make out anything about whoever had grabbed him, but that didn’t matter; what _did_ matter were the dozens of bodies he could see moving about behind the trees.  He flinched; was he about to be killed by a horde of Death Eaters…? 

“Our newest recruit…” the man who had grabbed George threw him roughly onto the ground, “…Weasley.  Already he’s proved pretty useless!  Who’s idea was it to bring this pathetic child into our ranks?!”

“Oh, come now, Trevaskis, I’m sure he’ll be just fine once he _learns_.” George knew that voice; it belonged to Lucius Malfoy.  A shudder of disgust run through him, and when he felt a boot nudge the side of his face, anger filled him; who the hell did he think he _was,_ touching him like this?  “…Even if he _is_ a… _Weasley_ …”

Someone else moved forward to the boy still crouched in the dirt.  They grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.  They barked orders at him already, and George was too afraid to open his eyes; he knew that if he were to look around at his surroundings, he would _never_ be able to pretend this was all just a nightmare he would soon wake up from. 

“Get your wand, boy!  Don’t just lay there like a scared dog!”

George’s hand trembled as he pulled his wand from his pocket.  He clutched it close to his chest with both hands as if it were a safety blanket, and still he refused to open his eyes; he was just dreaming; his nightmares were only getting worse and soon he’d wake himself up screaming and Fred would be there to tell him he was okay and -

“Are you _scared,_ Mr. Weasley?” Lucius’ tone was mocking, and again that anger surged through George like a wildfire.  “Well, _don’t_ be; we just want to… _measure_ your capabilities before we throw you into anything too deep like tonight.”

There was a screaming that sounded now.  A young girl, perhaps?  George’s trembling grew worse; had they captured someone?  Were they going to make him watch as they killed her?  “…”

“Open your eyes, Mr. Weasley, or I’ll make sure they never close _again_.”

George shuddered.  He did as told; his gut was telling him it was best if he obeyed.  His heart almost stopped at the sight of a girl, no older than fifteen, bloodied and bruised and screaming desperately for her parents. 

“Well?  Go on.” Lucius moved to stand so close behind George, their bodies brushed together.  He whispered into the younger’s ear.  “Show us what you have.”

George shook his head.  Tears slid down his cheeks now.  “…”

“You mean you don’t care what happens to your family, Mr. Weasley?  To your twin brother?  Yes, I’ve heard _all_ about your brother; memories almost completely wiped and very little cognitive function left.  It’d be such a shame if something were to happen to you and he was left all alone – after all, who would jerk on his cock for him with you gone?  Now do it, or your brother is at stake.”

“Use Crucio, boy!  Do it!”

“Yeah, Crucio her!”

There was so much encouragement from around him, George felt like he could vomit.  His stomach churned violently as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.  Memories of his own experience under Crucio made him want to scream out his pain, but instead all he could do was close his eyes again and with a trembling hand pointing his wand at the terrified girl, whisper, “C…  Cru…cio…”

Nothing happened.  George should have expected it; he really didn’t want to hurt _anyone_.  He whimpered when a hand slapped him across the face.

“Boy, you have to _mean_ it!  This is what you signed up for!  Now put her under Crucio or we’re going to drag your twin back here and make you watch _us_ Crucio _him_ for the night!”

“Now, now, don’t scare the poor boy.” Lucius’ hand was on George’s shoulder, and all George wanted was to turn his wand to the man and Crucio _him_.  “He’s clearly very scared; I’m sure this is something we can work on.  Now…  Mr. Weasley…  Kill her.”

 

* * *

 

George staggered back through the campsite in a complete daze.  He couldn’t think of anything but the green light that had erupted from the end of his wand before the girl fell forever silent.  Tears continued to stream down his cheeks as his body trembled violently, but before he could think much more on what he had just done, he heard someone screaming at him and then a spell whizzed past his head. 

“No!  No, stop!  That’s my son!”

“George!”

George stood where he was as both his father’s and Bill’s arms wrapped around him tight.  He couldn’t hug back; he couldn’t _move_.  He listened in silence as his father argued for his innocence against whoever was accusing him of being a Death Eater, and as much as he wished his father was right, he knew it was going to break Arthur’s heart if he ever found out what had transpired in those woods tonight.

“George…  George, don’t listen to _any_ of them, okay?!” Arthur’s embrace only tightened.

“George, what happened?” Bill was looking down at him with an expression that had suddenly aged half a century from stress.  “Why did you run away like that?  Ron said you threatened him…  I’ve been looking everywhere for you; I was so… _worried_ …”

Silent tears rolled down George’s face, and he subconsciously rubbed his palms against his clothing again to try and get rid of blood that had already dried to his skin.  “…M-my friend…  I went back for my new friend…  They… died…”

Bill curled his hand around the back of George’s head to hold his face against his chest.  He used his other hand to examine his brother’s bloodied palms gently.  “Shh…  You’re not hurt, are you…?”

“…It’s not my blood…”  It was true.

“Your son _must_ be a Death Eater, Arthur!  He must be with them!”

George flinched; they were right, and he was terrified to know what would happen if they were to demand he roll his sleeves upward to prove he had no branding on his skin; his father would probably commit suicide on the spot from heartbreak and disappointment…

And Bill…  Well, George hated to think about how _Bill_ would handle it as his oldest brother had practically raised he and Fred…

“My son. Is _not_.  A Death Eater.  I know George!  He couldn’t harm a fly!” Arthur’s grip tightened on his son’s shoulder before he said, “Come on, George…  Everyone’s waiting…  Let’s get out of here…”

They walked in silence, with Bill’s hand clasped tightly around George’s as if he were afraid he’d lose the other again if he ever let go.  It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, George knew; something Bill had done even while they were all still very young.  Even so, especially once he noticed just how violently Ron flinched every time the twin came close to him, the tears never stopped until the next morning.

 

* * *

 

“Georgie…?”

George hummed as his name broke through his train of thoughts the next night.  He looked down at his brother, seated comfortably in the warm bath.  His arm extended, and his fingers dragged slowly through long, soaking wet locks of hair.  “What’s wrong, Fred?”

Fred’s reply was a mumbled, conjoined mess, and if George didn’t know his brother so well, he may not have understood.  “Georgie looks’o ‘ad…”

“Oh…” The younger shook his head and offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes; how could it when all he could do was replay the events of the previous night over and over again in his head…?  He had _killed_ someone that night...  “No, Freddie…  I’m fine…  Just thinking.”

Silence fell amongst the bathroom once more as George focused on scrubbing his brother’s body as clean as he could get it.  He was just about to reach out for the bottle of shampoo next to him, but he stopped when he heard a small moan coming from his twin’s mouth.  He gave a small chuckle as he noticed his brother’s hand had disappeared under the water sometime in the past five minutes. 

“Do you want me to take care of that for you, Freddie?” The younger’s whisper was gentle.  “I can… if you want me to.”

Fred nodded.  He let out another soft moan as he felt fingers that weren’t his own curl around his hard dick, and even in his current condition, he let out a pleased sigh; this felt so right, and his brother’s fingers felt better against him than his own had...  He closed his eyes as he focused on the pleasure; maybe he should start waking his twin up every time he awoke with this urge… 

George, though he didn’t mind pleasuring his brother at all, was worried; was he only going to get Fred hurt if they continued this…?  Those Death Eaters had photos of them, and he was sure he was only endangering his twin.  Perhaps it was best they never did this kind of thing together again – after all, if Fred didn’t even remember it, he couldn’t miss it…

“G-georgie…”

…But how could he resist the older male’s sweet moans for him…?  George relaxed as he focused instead on the sensations he was bringing Fred.  For the first time in his life, he wondered about sex.  His own shaft twitched in interest as he wondered how they could do it now; he wanted the other to be top so he didn’t hurt Fred – but _could_ Fred even have sex so soon…?  If he were to go ahead with his own desires while his brother was like this, would he only be _raping_ his twin?  He didn’t know if Fred could still consent properly – if he could _understand_ sex anymore – and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of his beautiful brother.

“Hey, Freddie…?”

“Mmm…”

George’s hot breath billowed against his brother’s ear, and finally, the stress of everything that had happened in those woods was ebbing away.  “I was just wondering… if maybe… you want to make love to me…?”

Fred’s confused, silent stare told the younger all he needed to know; Fred didn’t understand, and honestly…  George just didn’t have the energy to retrain his brother tonight.  He shook his head and gave a soft smile. 

“It’s okay, Freddie…  We can do it another night…”

George waited until the other gave a loud cry at his climax before he released Fred’s dick and drained the water to refill it with clean liquids.  He couldn’t help but smile as Fred’s eyes closed and he relaxed so much, he fell asleep in the tub. 

Yes…  Making love with his brother could _definitely_ wait. 


	7. Chapter 7

To George’s honest surprise, his parents hadn’t sent Fred back to St. Mungo’s when the school term started; instead, they had allowed Fred to return to Hogwarts after making special arrangements with Dumbledore – he had a sneaking suspicion it was because his parents were afraid of what the younger twin would do to himself if he had to suffer through an entire year at Hogwarts without Fred there to keep him grounded.  He was glad he was still going to have his brother by his side, but he could already see a big problem with this; how was he supposed to look after Fred while they were at school?  It was hard enough caring for him at the Burrow! 

Thankfully, George had been able to keep Fred quiet and relaxed on the train, and his brother hadn’t acted out at school once; he’d been so quiet through everything, George had almost thought his brother had gone mute that morning.

It was when they had arrived back at the Gryffindor common rooms after their dinner did George finally find out what was bothering the older male.

“G-georgie…” Fred gave his brother a scared look as he pointed to the spiral staircase the other Gryffindors had gone up to get to their dormitories.  He shook his head.  “D-don’t wanna…”

George gave a smile tired from the day they had experienced.  He reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a tiny trumpet with wheels attached and said, “We don’t have to go near any of them…  But I thought we could have a bit of fun before we sleep.  Just like the old days.”

Fred cocked his head to the side.  “What’s that…?”

“This is going to be our welcome back to Hogwarts.” The younger winked as he reached out to take Fred’s hand.  “I was working on it over the summer; I…  There were things I didn’t want to think about…  So I came up with our first prank back.  Come on.”

Fred’s gait was slow and wobbly as he leant against his brother’s side to stay upright, and though the stairs were proving challenging and rather painful for him, he eventually got up to the end of the flight to see how his twin had slipped those funny little things under the cracks of every door they had passed.

The first excited grin Fred could remember his brother wearing crossed George’s face as he tugged at Fred’s hand again.  “Come on, brother!  Let’s get back downstairs before they go off!”

Fred couldn’t help but wonder what was about to happen, but he found he didn’t mind, whatever it was; he didn’t think he’d seen his twin look so gleeful before, and he wouldn’t mind seeing George looking like it again. 

They sat on the couch in the common room together in silence when, suddenly, the air filled with the sound of a thousand trumpets blaring and students screaming.  Fred smiled at his brother’s laugh; George had a very nice laugh, and it helped lower his anxiety. 

“Okay, mate; I think we should get some sleep; you must be exhausted.”

Fred expected wholeheartedly for them to get up and find a bed somewhere in this new place, but that didn’t happen; instead, George grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to lay down on top of his brother.  If he were a cat, he would have purred; this was even better than the bed they shared because, for the first time, he felt so naturally close to George, he finally felt _normal_. 

George yawned softly before his hand begun to thread through Fred’s soft hair.  He smiled peacefully, and as his eyes fluttered closed, he whispered, “I love you, Freddie…”

And then, the most natural thing Fred could remember…  “Lov’oo too, Georgie...”

Fred wasn’t even fazed by the lips that sought out his own; he was led in a dance he didn’t know but picked up with ease, and finally, when they broke apart and George’s arms settled around his back to hold him so impossibly tight, he was asleep; as long as he could have George by his side, he knew he could get through anything.

 

* * *

 

Mad-Eye Moody was something else, that was for sure, and George didn’t know if he liked the guy.  He supposed he could have liked him a little.  …If it weren’t for the fact he seemed to get kicks out of showing students things he shouldn’t.

“There are _three_ Unforgiveable Curses,” Mad-Eye had explained as he glared out across the students.  “Who can tell me one of them?”

Silence.  No one even raised their hand to answer the question.  Mad-Eye didn’t seem put off; instead, his eyes settled on Fred and George, and a smirk crossed his face.  “Ahh…  _Perfect_.  _You two_ will know _all_ of them.  Now, you on the left; tell me one of them.”

George frowned.  His arms went out to hold Fred close as he muttered, “Teachers aren’t allowed to ask my brother questions anymore; he…”

“Ah, yes, I know all about him.” Mad-Eye nodded.  “He lost a great deal of brain function.  Never mind; _you_ tell me one of them.  Don’t be shy; you’ve had two of them used on you just last year.”

Why was this guy singling them out, George wondered?  He shuddered as he looked around the classroom for help when, suddenly, the green of the Slytherins’ uniforms they shared this class with became blinding, and he felt as if he were going to throw up when that sickeningly bright flash of green from the end of his wand that night at the Quidditch World Cup played through his mind.

“Well, Weasley?  We’re waiting.”  Silence.  “Have it your way.”

Mad-Eye went back to his desk to take out a large spider he had jarred in his suitcase.  He took it back to the twins’ table and leant in to whisper something into Fred’s ear.  Fred, despite the dazed expression on his face, still gave a nod as he picked his wand up from the desk and pointed it at the spider.  “Crucio…”

A horrible scream ripped from George’s throat as he snatched his brother’s wand away to stop the agonised squeals the thrashing spider was making and he shouted, “ _Why would you tell him to do that?!  He doesn’t even know what he just did!”_

Mad-Eye didn’t so much as blink.  Instead, his gaze fixed on George, and the younger felt as if his very being was penetrated.  “Perhaps _you_ would like to demonstrate the Cruciatus Curse to everyone instead, then?  If not, I’ll get your brother to do it again.  It is rather curious he performed that curse, despite not understanding what he was even doing.  I’d love to see what else I can get him to perform…”

George stood up so fast, he almost knocked the desk over.  He whipped his wand out and pointed it at the spider, and with tears running down his cheeks, he screamed, “Crucio!  …Crucio… _Crucio!”_

It was when the spider stopped moving altogether after what must have been a year of tormented shrieking did George kick his chair out of the way and run from the classroom.  He didn’t go far once he escaped through the doors; he allowed his back to slide down the marble wall behind him as he cried into his hands; what was wrong with him…?  Why had he been able to cast Crucio…?  He didn’t want to hurt anything – at least…  He _hadn’t_ wanted to hurt anything until his _brother’s safety_ came into question… 

Was he turning evil…?  Was he going to be the next Voldemort?  Was there a reason he had the Dark Mark branded so deep into his skin, he knew it was _never_ going to go away?  His tears came harder.

“Georgie…?”

The doors to the classroom had opened again and George hadn’t even realised.  He looked up to see his brother standing by his side, looking afraid.  He opened his arms wide.  “C’mere, Freddie…  It’s okay…”

Fred sat in silence in his brother’s arms.  He didn’t know what else to do except listen to the younger’s cries.

“I did something bad, Freddie…”

Finally, Fred turned to look at his brother.  “…?”

George’s tears came harder.  “I did something _real_ bad…  I’m…  I’m scared…  I’m so sorry…  I didn’t want… to hurt anyone…  I swear…  Please don’t hate me, Freddie…  Please…  I just… didn’t want them to hurt _you_ …  I’m so _sorry,_ Freddie…  I love you so much…”

Throughout it all, Fred remained silent. 

 

* * *

 

_“Ahh…  F-fred…  Fred, please…  Right there…” George let out a moan as he felt long digits caressing his spot.  He shifted his hips to try and take them deeper into his body, but he stopped when he heard his brother chuckle from atop him._

_“What’s the hurry, George?  You don’t want to take our time and enjoy this…?” Fred’s hot breath billowed against his brother’s cheek, making them both harder.  “I can take you here and now if you wish…  But I’m sure you’d enjoy it most if we don’t rush.”_

_George looped his arms around his twin’s neck to pull him closer.  Their noses brushed together as they stared lovingly into each other’s eyes.  “I always enjoy the things we do together because it’s with_ you, _Freddie…  I just want to be with you, is all…  No matter what…”_

_There was shuffling of bedsheets beneath them as Fred pulled his fingers out and shifted so he could press himself against his brother’s entrance after hanging the younger’s legs from his shoulders. “Are you ready, Georgie?”_

_George gave a nod.  He knew he should feel nervous, about to lose his virginity, but instead he felt completely relaxed; it was so natural for them to do this, and he knew Fred would never hurt him.  He gave a quiet moan as he felt himself being penetrated, but it hurt far less than he had expected – perhaps because he was just so relaxed?_

_“Oh, Georgie…” Fred gave a soft, pleased moan as he sheathed himself deep inside his twin’s body.  “You’re as… tight as I’d imagined…”_

_“M-move…” George wasn’t going to wait; he felt so wonderful with the feeling of his brother filling him so perfectly, and he didn’t care if it were going to cause him any discomfort; he wanted his brother to come inside him and fill him all the way up and hold him until he could finally find the energy to move again. “Oh, god, Fred,_ move!”

_Fred didn’t need to be told twice; he rocked his hips, gently at first to see how much his twin could take.  “George…  Oh, George, I’ve never… Never felt so good before…  Do you feel good, too, Georgie?  Am I making you feel good?”_

_“Fred…!” The younger threw his head back against the pillows as his vision went white when something inside of him was brushed against.  “T-there…!  Oh,_ please, _Freddie, right there…!”_

_Fred said nothing as he busied himself with biting and sucking against the younger’s neck.  He angled his hips to where George wanted his thrusts, and when he heard the increasing spasming that was his twin’s erratic breathing, he grinned.  “It feels so good, doesn’t it, Georgie?  I love you so much…”_

_“I… Oh, gods…!  I… love… you… too…!” George’s eyes squeezed shut as he reached downwards to take his twin’s hand.  They held on together for dear life, but it wasn’t until another hand that wasn’t his own wrapped around his neglected shaft and started pumping did his eyes snap open and he couldn’t stop himself from screaming at his fast-approaching orgasm.  “Oh, god…!  Oh, god…!  F-f-fred…  Fred, I…!  Ah!  Ah!  F-fred!  I’m coming…!”_

_It was Fred’s words that pushed George into spurting all over their chests.  “Come for me, Georgie.  Come for me so I can fill you all up.”_

“Mr. Weasley!”

George snapped back to reality with a yelp at McGonagall’s shout.  He panted heavily as he looked around to see where he was; in the middle of Transfiguration class, with an entire room full of eyes fixed on him…  If his face wasn’t already so flushed, he was sure his embarrassment would have made his face go redder than his hair.  “P-professor M-McGonagall…”

The witch was stern, but there was still an air of gentleness about her, as if she was too afraid to rip into her student after being put through so much.  “I’m so very glad to see you starting to function again after what was done to you last year, but I’d really hope you’d have learnt already to keep your urges in the privacy of your bed.  It was a good dream, I take it?”

George couldn’t reply; he was up and out of his seat, sprinting to the doorway.

“Mr. Weasley!”

George stopped again at his name.  He hesitated to turn around, but when he did, he frowned.  “Y-yes…?”

She sighed heavily and then gestured to Fred.  “Take your brother with you; no doubt he’s going to need privacy of his own for a while.”

George yelped again as he sprinted back to his desk so he could gather all of their books and then pull Fred’s hand out of his pants and drag him back to the Gryffindor common room.

They had never gotten back so fast before, not even when half the staff in the castle had been chasing after them for being out of bed at night a few years back.  They stood in the common room, panting as they tried to catch their breaths – but throughout it all, Fred’s pants remained tented, and George frowned; he couldn’t leave his brother to suffer a hard-on…

“Fred…” George murmured as he took his twin’s hand.  “Let’s go upstairs…  It’ll just be us…”

Fred obeyed.  He allowed himself to be helped up the flight of stairs and into their dormitory, and finally, once he was seated on the bed, his hand ventured back to his pants.  George gave a chuckle from where he knelt on the floor between his brother’s legs.  “You were listening to me, huh?”

The older male nodded.  His fingers danced along the bulge in his pants before he shifted.  “Georgie…  H-hurts…”

“Lay back, brother…  Lay back…” George helped the other get comfortable before he climbed back onto the bed and unclipped Fred’s belt.  He tugged his brother’s pants and boxers down so his hard cock could spring up into the air, and George felt a shudder of excitement run through him – was he even still effected by what had been done to him last year?  Was it _okay_ that he was, once again, so willing to be intimate with Fred?  He felt dirty; he was such a slut, whoring himself out to everyone left and right…

“Georgie…” Fred’s hips bucked impatiently. 

George shook his head to clear his thoughts; he wasn’t a slut because all he was doing were _natural_ things with Fred.  Fred needed his help now; he could still masturbate on his own, but how effectively?  George was going to help him because he knew _Fred_ would do the exact same thing for him, even if it had been _Fred_ who had been abused…

“Close your eyes…” George waited until he had been obeyed before he wrapped his fingers around the stiff shaft.  He wanted to close his own eyes so he couldn’t see what he was about to put into his mouth, but he knew not to; he needed to be able to see and _know_ it was Fred he was with and no one else.

The taste was _much_ more welcome than the one he had had shoved down his unwilling throat so many times.  It tasted almost sweet, unlike the bitter, nasty taste he could still feel phantoms of on his tongue.  Fred gave a loud, keening moan and his hips shot upwards to get more of the sensations.

The younger tensed at the action, but it was when he heard his name being called so passionately did he relax; it was Fred, and Fred could beat him black and blue if that was what the older twin needed to be able to get off.  He kept his eyes open and fixed on his brother’s face contorted with overwhelming pleasure.

He thought back to his dream; oh, how amazing it would be to make love with his brother…  Except Fred wouldn’t be able to do so mentally anymore.  …Unless…

George pulled his mouth away from the spit-stained cock so he could extend his hand towards Fred’s face and whisper, “Will you suck on my fingers for me, Fred?”

Fred did as he was told.  He took his time in sucking each digit and wrapping his tongue around them as if they were a delicious treat he had finally been granted after so long of waiting.  He whined in disappointment when the hand was pulled away, but he quickly moaned again in pleasure when he felt something prod at his rear.

“Is it okay, Freddie…?  Tell me if it isn’t; I’ll stop…” When no response came, George inserted the first finger.  Fred seemed to take it well; all he heard from the other was a surprised gasp and a slight shifting of his hips.

The second finger, while earning a quiet moan of discomfort, gave much the same reaction as the first.  It was the third where things got tricky, and Fred pulled away from the penetrating fingers with a whimper.

“Am I hurting you, Freddie?” It was George’s worst fear; this was why he had never wanted to have sex before…  “I’m sorry; I’ll stop.”

Fred shook his head.  “No… D-don’t… stop…  Don’t stop…”

George frowned.  “You want me to keep going?”

“Yes…”

The younger twin hesitated, but he soon nodded.  “Is it okay if… if…  I use something _bigger_ than fingers…?”

Fred nodded.  He spread his legs wide to give the younger more room, almost as if he were listening to what his body was telling him to do.  He moaned when he felt something prodding at his rear again, and when it pushed in, he gave a loud, pained cry.

George froze in panic.  He reached out to take hold of Fred and whisper, “I’m so sorry!  I don’t want to hurt you, Freddie!  I won’t do this to you!  I’m so sorry!  I-I’ll finger you instead!  I promise!”

True to his word, George pulled himself out and replaced it instead with his fingers once more.  He was relieved to hear his brother groan and cry out in pleasure as he massaged the bundle of nerves that would make Fred go crazy with need; this wasn’t so bad, and he was finding he wouldn’t mind if Fred ever asked him to do this to him again.

As expected, with so much anal stimulation going on that his body had never experienced before, Fred came rather quickly, spurting all over their fronts.  George didn’t need any stimulation of his own to reach climax; seeing Fred coming so deliciously hard with his fingers still inside was enough to dampen the front of his pants.

George crawled up onto the bed and lay with his sweating, trembling brother.  He pulled the older male into a tight embrace as Fred had always done with him, and he whispered, “I can finger you again another time if you want me to, Freddie…  I…  I want to make love with you one day though…  But I need you to make love to me because I’m too scared of hurting you…  Will you do that one day…?  For me?”

Fred was asleep already, but George didn’t mind; he knew one day they could be together fully; it just… might take a little while.  


	8. Chapter 8

It was in a study period when a letter arrived by owl for George.  It was a large, black, nasty looking thing that had delivered it, and as soon as he tried to remove the note, it bit him several times, drawing blood from four fingers that steadily dripped onto his notes below and smudged them beyond recognition.  He briefly wished one of their friends was with them to help him get the letter with minimal pain, but as usual, Lee Jordan was out getting his dick sucked by Angelina and he didn’t think he even _wanted_ to know where the other girls were; he shuddered at the possibilities.   

“Bloody thing!” George finally snatched the letter away. 

Fred’s head dropped onto his shoulder to see what it was as he sucked slowly on the lollipop George had bought for him at Hogsmeade that morning.  He pulled the lollipop from his mouth and cocked his head to the side as he watched his twin open the letter with blood-smeared fingers; why did George look so nervous all of a sudden?  “Was’dat…”

George chewed at his lip.  He glanced between Fred and the letter before he gulped thickly and got to his feet.  He threw their books into his bag before he grabbed Fred’s hand and pulled the older male from the library and down the corridor as if they were being chased by an axe murderer.  “Fred, there’s something important I have to do, so I need you to stay in the common room and wait for me to come back, okay?  There’s more lollipops in my trunk; you can eat them all while you wait for me.  I won’t be long; I promise!”

The panic in his voice must have been clear even in Fred’s state because the older twin didn’t argue; he stayed silent until he was being pulled through the portrait of the Fat Lady and dragged over to the first Gryffindor George saw.  He shuffled his feet nervously once they were standing in the middle of the common room; what was going on?  Why was George suddenly so worked up?  He begun chewing at his lollipop now, hoping it’d calm him down, but instead all it did was bring on another migraine as the chewing sounds reverberated through his skull.  He groaned softly and then went back to sucking at his treat instead.

“You!” George must have looked like a wild man with the way he threw his bag so carelessly to the floor before pulling Fred all the way over to what had to have been a female first year judging by her terribly small size.  He ignored the cower she made as he all but screamed, “Keep an eye on my brother!  Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”

With that, George was sprinting all the way through the castle once more in a desperate bid to make it down to the Forbidden Forest in the five minutes the letter specified he had to arrive.  He bit his lip angrily; he had thought at school they would be safe, away from all of that – but apparently not…  Even at Hogwarts, they were still finding ways to him. 

He made it to the forest with four seconds to spare, and as expected, he was waved in past the trees and guided deep within by a cloaked figure.  He shuddered; what did they want with him…?  Couldn’t he just focus on his school work or something…?

It was when he was led into a clearing with half a dozen other people wearing their Death Eater hoods did he almost freeze; were they going to kill him already…? 

“Mr. Weasley.”  It was Lucius again, with that fake kindness to his drawl.  He made his way over to the younger twin and, like he had the other night, clapped his hand tight to the boy’s shoulder.  “So good of you to have come.  Our _friends_ were starting to worry you would not be suitable for our ranks.  They wanted to dispose of you and take your brother instead, but I… _convinced_ them to give you a chance.”

George shuddered.  He hated the whisper that escaped his lips.  “…What are… you going to do with me…?”

“Dear boy…” Lucius’ lips curled into a smirk.  “Why…  We just need to _erase_ that gentleness you possess; it will do you no good as a Death Eater.”

“Erase…?” George felt sick to his stomach; that couldn’t be good…

“Crucio!”

George screamed loudly as he was put under the Cruciatus Curse once gain.  He felt as if his body was melting on the spot, but no matter how much he writhed and pleaded and _begged_ , they wouldn’t break the spell – not until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was sure he was about to die.

“Do you see this here, boy?”

George, from where he had collapsed onto the ground, cracked open his eyelid to see what the other was talking about.  He frowned; there was a half-dead Centaur pinned down in the dirt with bloodied spikes erupting from its body.  “…”

“Until you can perform a successful Cruciatus Curse on this… _beast,_ you will be tortured into an inch of your life,” Lucius drawled.  “Must I remind you of what is at stake if you fail?”

The boy shook his head.  “No…  I’m not…  I’m not killing that Centaur…”

“You killed that girl the other night.  Pretty little thing she was.  Unless you prefer to get straight into the murder rather than torture.  Quite inconvenient; how do you expect to get information from someone if you have to kill them immediately?”

“Boy, _Crucio_ this thing now or you’re going to get it again!”

George spat onto Malfoy’s boot.  “I… I won’t…”

“Have it your way.  Crucio!”

It went on like this for what felt like hours; they would demand him brutalise that poor creature and he would refuse, being placed under spells so torturous, he only hoped they’d kill him soon.

“I’m asking you one last time, Mr. Weasley…” it was a new Death Eater, one that George hadn’t been able to take notice of until he’d dropped his hood in this moment, “…perform Crucio, or we’ll –“

“ _Crucio_!” George didn’t know if he had ever screamed so angrily in his life before, but here he was, covered in blood and bruises from their hands and feet and sticks and _spells_ , with his wand pointed at the wizard who had been threatening him and a sneer on his face as the man writhed in agony beneath his curse. 

“Expelliarmus!”

Lucius didn’t hold back once George’s wand was in his hand; he stepped closer to George, and with one heavy whack, his fist had sent the boy flying into a tree.  “Mr. Weasley, we do _not_ attack our comrades!  It is up to the Dark Lord _only_ to decide who is to be punished.  However, that was a _very_ admirable Cruciatus Curse – very brave, too, to use it against a fellow Death Eater.  I daresay you will be able to put that poor creature out of its misery with one final Crucio?”

George snatched his wand back when it was tossed to him.  His eyes held a look of deep hatred as he locked gazes with Malfoy and raised his wand to the long-haired man.  Lucius sneered back.

“Go on, boy.  Do it.  If you think you have it in you.” Lucius’ taunt only made a dark expression cross the twin’s face.  “I’m afraid if you do, however, your family is as good as dead.  Now point your wand where it’s supposed to be and _do it_.”

George didn’t break eye contact for almost a minute before he let out a deep growl and finally pointed his wand at the centaur that looked to be only just breathing now judging by its shallow rise and fall of its chest.  “Avada Kedavra…”

Lucius chuckled.  “Merciful, aren’t you, boy?  It’s okay; we can get that out of you, too.  Meet us here at the same time next Monday.  And bring your brother with you.  If you don’t…  You don’t want to know what’s going to happen.”

“You think I’ll let you bastards anywhere _near_ my brother?!  I won’t!  I won’t let you lot corrupt him!  He’s _perfect_ as he is because he doesn’t have to remember anything _about_ you lot or your stupid Dark Lord!”

“Watch your tongue with us, boy, unless you want to _lose_ it!” Lucius hissed.  He grabbed the front of the student’s Hogwarts robes and pulled George close.  “We expect the Dark Lord to rerise by the time the Tri-Challenge Tournament ends.  Just a heads-up, _child…_  When he _does_ rise again, you can kiss your brother goodbye for _good_ because you _won’t_ be seeing him again.  And I don’t _mean_ we’re going to kill him.  No…  We may spare him and your family…  But by the time we’re done with you, you’re going to be nothing more than a killing machine, and it will be in _both_ your best interests to cut ties with him now before you _really_ hurt him.”

With that said, George was alone.

 

* * *

 

“Fred…?” George stared around the Gryffindor Common Room in disbelief.  It was much later than he had thought it would be; the corridors were darkening with the approaching night, and most of the Gryffindors were here and staring at him in utter disbelieve at his robes drenched with blood, albeit too seemingly afraid to question anything about it.  “Fred!”

Fred didn’t come to his name.  It was sick of George to expect him to come trotting up like a goddamn well-trained golden retriever, but what else could he do?  His brother wasn’t here, and when he got his hands on that first year who _dared_ let sweet Fred wander off alone, he was gonna –

“Oh, George.  There you are.  We were looking for you before.”

George whirled around on the spot to scream at Ron and tell the younger to leave him alone for once, but he stopped when he realised Fred had accompanied Harry, Ron and Hermione wherever they had just been.  His stress slowly ebbed away, but he still growled to Ron, “Where _were_ you?!”

“We thought Fred could use some fresh air, so we took him out to see Hagrid.  Why?”  The younger’s eyes widened now, and when he spoke, his voice trembled.  “G-george, what’s with all the blood on your clothing?!  Are you hurt?!”

George froze.  They had been so close to Hagrid’s hut today; what if someone had overheard what was going on…?  And now they’d taken notice of the saturation all over his fabric…  Questions would be asked, and suspicions raised…  He startled trembling.  “Fred…  Fred, come here.  Ronald, don’t you _ever_ take him from me like that again!”

“Me?!  _You_ were the one who shoved him in here with a _first-year_ and then ran off somewhere!” Ron stepped forward to grab the back of Fred’s shirt to stop him leaving his side; whatever mental and emotional state George was in wasn’t going to be good for their damaged brother to be around.  “He’s _my_ brother, too, and if I want him to come with us, he _can!_ Why should you hog him all to yourself?!  Running off and coming back looking like a bloody dragon’s attacked you!  You think Fred wants to be around that kind of environment?!”

The other Gryffindors had gathered around to watch the shouting match, but no one else spoke; even Harry and Hermione stayed out of it as they knew George wasn’t in a good state _at all_ and was liable to do _anything_.   

“Stay out it, you twat!” George roared.  He completely missed the look of pain on Ron’s face, but even if he _had_ noticed it, he probably wouldn’t have been able to care; there was so much pain in him right now, and all he wanted was to be somewhere alone with Fred.  “Fred hates you, and so do I!  We were just always too polite to tell you!  Leave him alone!”

It must have been the fact that George was yelling that brought Lee and Angelina coming down from the dormitories to see what was going on; George had never been one to shout because even though he so very rarely got angry, he had always dealt with it by giving people the silent treatment. 

Angelina moved herself to stand between Ron and George while Lee came to stand next to his best mate and put his hand on George’s arm, trying to work out what was going on. 

“You two, _stop_ it!” Angelina shoved into George’s chest to get him to back up from the other group before she pointed to Fred and gave her own yell.  “Whatever you two are fighting about, did _either_ of you stop to think about how it’ll affect Fred?!  He’s about to cry, but damnit, George, you’re only thinking about yourself here, aren’t you?!  Both of you, get away from each other and _calm down_!”

George’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he observed his twin.  There really _were_ stray tears rolling down the older male’s cheeks, and all he could do was look helplessly at Lee.  “…”

Lee shook his head and said softly, “She’s right, mate…  You need to simmer down for a while…  You’re…  You’re not _well_ …  Go and sit somewhere quiet.  I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

If either of his friends had noticed the blood on his school robes, they hadn’t said anything.  George shook his head at Lee before he turned back to Fred, ignoring his younger brother completely now who wore his own look of deep hurt on his face.

Fred flinched when his twin turned to him next.  He looked at his feet as he braced himself for the yelling, but to his surprise, it never came.  He slowly lifted his head up and fumbled with his hands.  “…”

“Come on, Fred…” George reached out to take his twin’s hand.  “Let’s go back to our shop…”

“S-shop…?” Fred shifted uncomfortably, not sure if he wanted to leave with the younger right now; maybe he could find Ginny and stay with her?  He knew _she_ would never yell at him as all she had ever given him were warm, comforting embraces as she whispered softly to him and promised him he was safe and everything would be okay.    

“Yeah; each year we set up shop in the unused bathroom and sell our stuff to other Gryffindor students.” George desperately needed to distract himself from everything that had happened.  “Maybe we can brainstorm some new ideas for products tonight, Fred…  If we don’t get many customers…  I think we still have a few chocolate frog cards left over; if we sell anymore tonight, we can go for a wander to Hogsmeade again and eat chocolate frogs all day tomorrow.  Would you like that?”

Fred nodded.  He followed his brother in silence until they were eventually climbing through a portrait and into a wide-open bathroom that had chairs and tables scattered all over the place.  George moved over to the back wall, and with a few taps of his wand, the bricks moved away to reveal a large chest hidden inside.  The younger twin smiled proudly as he pulled it out. 

“Our stock, Freddie.  Help me put it all out on display?”

The older male was only too happy to help now that his brother had stopped yelling, though he still wondered about all the blood – the only problem was, whatever had happened didn’t seem to be causing the younger any physical discomfort, and he feared that if he were to bring it up, it’d be his turn to be shouted at next.  He shook his head to not think about it and instead looked down at the items he had grabbed.  His smile returned as he laid out rows of chocolate frog cards on one of the tables, and when he heard George call for him, he turned around with an even bigger smile; finally, his twin was looking so happy again...

“Look what I found, Freddie!” George wore a smile of his own as he waved a single packaging for a chocolate frog in the air.  “I found it at the bottom of the chest.  Let’s go halves in it!”

Fred grinned as he clambered unsteadily into what looked to have once been a basin of sorts but now had been parted out and was serving as a kind of circular desk with chairs on the inside.  He sat down and took the top half of the chocolate when it was given to him; George was just so nice to him…

It was when the portrait swung open again and Ronald stepped inside by his lonesome did George’s mood turn foul again.  He shovelled the last of his chocolate into his mouth before he stood back up and went to close the distance between he and his smallest brother. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” George growled.  “Don’t you have a bed to wet?”

The pain on Ron’s face was clear, but he otherwise ignored the words that had just been spoken to him.  “Mum wrote to me last night…  She wanted to know how you and Fred were doing…”

George glanced back at Fred to make sure the older male stayed where he was; he couldn’t let his twin overhear what was being said.  He turned back to Ron and glared.  “We’re doing _fine_.  Butt out!”

“You’re really not…” The smaller male’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, and his eyes flickered over the blood on his brother’s clothing.  “George…  You’re trying to be brave, but please…  I’m your _brother_ …  You haven’t…  You haven’t been right for a long time…”

“I was _raped,_ you fool!  Do you have any idea of the things he _did_ to me!  He _tortured_ me, Ron!  You expected me to dance around the place more cheerful than I’ve ever been?  It doesn’t _work_ like that!  Not when every time I close my eyes at night, I feel the pain all over again – so much fucking pain, I just want to _die!_ ”

Ron chewed at his lip.  He was afraid of saying the wrong thing, but at the request of their worried mother, he was going to at _least try_ and find out what was bothering George so much.  “It’s…  No.  I’d have _never_ expected that from you, George…  But that wasn’t where it started, you see?  You were… pretty _normal_ after that…  It was after Fred had to go back to St Mungo’s, and I just want you to know that if you’re blaming yourself over that, you don’t have to, George!  It wasn’t your fault!”

George’s eyes widened; had he become so distraught over the whole Death Eater business, it really _was_ affecting everything else in his life…?  A frown slowly crossed his face.  “…Ron…  I…  It’s not…  It’s not _Fred_ that’s been upsetting me…”

The younger male gave a whisper as his eyes softened.  “Then what _has_ been upsetting you, George…?  You can talk to me about it; I won’t tell anyone.”

The twin shook his head.  “No…  I _can’t_ talk to anyone about it; not even Fred…  You would all…  No…”

“You’re crying again.  The old George _never_ cried.  So please…  What’s bothering you, George?  I’ll do my best to understand…”

George wiped at his eyes; sure enough, he really _was_ crying.  The words Lucius had growled to him in those woods rang through his mind, about how a day was going to soon come where he was going to be forced to abandon his family.  He thought about doing it here and now, taking Ron somewhere Fred couldn’t see and hear and doing everything in his power to make Ron hate him so perhaps it wouldn’t hurt _either_ of them so much when he would eventually disappear…

 _But he’s my_ brother _…_  George shook his head; he’d been cruel enough to Ron already tonight…  “I…  I’m trapped in the middle of something…  Something I never wanted, but can’t get out of…”

Ron gasped.  “Is it _him?!_ The one who assaulted you?!  Is he still doing it?!”

“No…  No, nothing like that…  It’s worse…”

The smaller male could see just how depressed George was feeling, and in an effort to lighten the mood, he tried to chuckle, “As long as you’re not trying to tell me you became a Death Eater, I’m sure I won’t hate you for it.”

It was the violent flinch George made that alerted Ron, and his stomach begun churning; George…  No way; George would _never_ get himself involved in anything like that… 

Would he…?

“George…” Ron’s voice started trembling, and suddenly, he remembered why he had felt afraid of the older male that night at the Quidditch World Cup; George wasn’t right, and he feared it ran _so_ much deeper than he could ever guess.  “…I…  I’m going back to study more with Harry and Hermione…  But if you’re ever ready to talk to me about what’s going on, I’m here for you.”

“…”

“What should I tell mum?  She’s really worried, George…”

George closed his eyes, and from the effort it took to keep his voice from wavering, he spoke in a cold tone.  “Tell her…  She won’t have to worry for much longer.”

Ron’s heart started beating faster than he could remember it ever doing so; was George trying to tell him he was thinking of killing himself…?  It was his turn for tears to well up in his eyes, and as he turned tail and _sprinted_ back to the Common Room, loud sobs echoed off the bathroom walls.

“Sorry, Ron…” George started walking back to Fred, where he was glad to see the older male had busied himself with eating an entire box of Every Flavour Beans rather than come over and eavesdrop on their conversation; it would kill him for his twin to have overheard any of that.  “Sorry…  But it’s for the best…  You’ll understand soon, Ron…”

 

* * *

 

Sleep wasn’t coming easily for George that night, and it wasn’t because he’d only just managed to soothe Fred back into slumber a few minutes ago after the other had woken up in pain again.  He was on his bed with his limbs tangled around Fred’s, but no matter how hard he tried to force himself into oblivion, he couldn’t do it.  He sighed, and with careful precision, he crawled out from under his brother’s weight and tiptoed down to the common room.  He sat on the couch and stared at his lap, ignoring whoever else was sitting at one of the tables with textbooks open. 

It was really happening, wasn’t it?  George was a Death Eater, and one way or another, he was going to lose his family because of it.  Should he have refused at all costs to join and tried to find another way to stop them from going after Fred?  He had alerted his father, and if he had been able to come up with a plan instead of letting his emotions think for him, he maybe could have stalled them long enough for someone to find them and get the Ministry there somehow…  Look at what he had done; he wasn’t usually known for making rash decisions, but he’d managed to fuck up his and Fred’s lives in less than an hour… 

George pulled his knees to his chest so he could hug them tight.  He wasn’t crying; he’d been crying so much and never had it changed a thing for him.  Instead, he did his best to lock away his emotions; if those Death Eaters were serious about their promise, it was best he learnt to perfect his stoic mask it as soon as he could. 

He didn’t know how long he had sat there on the couch for, but eventually the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Harry and Ron were stumbling aside, talking animatedly between themselves.  They both froze at the sight of George.

“You go to bed, Harry,” Ron whispered.  “I’ll be up soon.”

Ron said nothing as he tiptoed over to the couch and sat next to his brother.  Their shoulders were touching, but neither of them said anything; Ron stared into the fireplace while George watched his fumbling hands.

It wasn’t long before the twin’s head dropped onto Ron’s shoulder, and the taller male had all but curled into Ron’s warmth.  Ron said nothing; he only shifted to make the other more comfortable. 

“Let me enjoy this while I have time…” George mumbled as he allowed his eyes to slip closed.  “I don’t know how much longer I have…”

He heard Ron let out a sob, but he didn’t look at the younger.  Ron didn’t reply; he only curled his fingers into George’s pyjama shirt and held on tight for dear life. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is non-graphic rape in this chapter; heads-up for anyone who may find themselves confronted.

“Mr. Weasley, are you _daydreaming_ in my class?”

George blinked the haze from his eyes as he lifted his cheek from his palm and straightened up to look at Snape from his desk.  He gave an expression so dazed, he probably could have passed for Fred then and there if the older twin wasn’t fast asleep beside him.  “Wha…?”

Snape whacked the book he was holding over George’s head.  “Ten points from Gryffindor.  I would sincerely hope you’d have been paying attention; you could have been making a potion for your brother’s sake, but I suppose two no-achievers like yourselves would rather sit in self-pity instead of attempting to make something of yourselves.”

George frowned; he’d been so zoned out, he hadn’t even taken notice of what exactly they were supposed to be working on.  His book was still closed tightly in front of him, and he opened the cover.  “What page are we on…?”

“Not the textbook, you stupid child,” Snape all but hissed.  He pointed down to the loose sheet of paper George hadn’t even noticed had been placed on his desk and said, “What I’m teaching you today will _never_ be found in a textbook because it is a potion so rare, only a select few even know of its existence.”

The younger twin glanced to his side to look at Fred.  His brother was fast asleep with his face hidden against his arms, and he felt it safe to ask, “What do you mean by I could be making something for Fred?”

“This potion has the potential for regrowing damaged or lost brain cells and has been known to reverse brain injuries in studies.  I figured since these are dark times we are living in, it might be a useful potion to understand.” Snape’s gaze bore straight through George, but the younger had a feeling Snape wasn’t telling the entire truth; never had the Potions Master deviated from their textbook – so why now, and with this particular potion?  Had Dumbledore asked Snape to do this…?

George didn’t hesitate to go over the paper and get everything ready as Snape turned his attention back to the class.  Never had he cared about following the instructions in potions class, but here he was, working with such careful precision to get everything correct, his fingers shook. 

It was half-an-hour into the class when George let out a frustrated groan; his potion was supposed to be a bright blue, but instead it had turned orange.  He dropped his head onto the table and banged against it furiously; maybe if he were lucky, someone else would have made a half-decent potion and they’d let him buy it off them without Snape’s knowledge…

“Don’t give up, mate,” Lee tried to encourage at his friend’s despair.  “This is a bloody difficult potion; I wouldn’t be surprised if old Snape has trouble making it.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for talking in my class!” Snape snapped as he stood by the twins’ desk once again.  “What do you call this, Weasley?  The instructions are clear as day; how could you _possibly_ have forgotten to add in the first line of ingredients on the list?  Why are your crushed hornets still sitting beside your cauldron when it was the first thing you _read_?  You have to be more insufferable than your younger brother in my classes; at least _he_ doesn’t forget the ingredients!”

George knew this was extremely out of character; Snape _never_ told anyone where they had gone wrong.  Was Fred’s condition so pitiful, even Snarky Snapey felt sorry for him…?  He dropped in his crushed hornets and felt his heartbeat settle as the potion _finally_ turned blue, albeit perhaps darker than it was supposed to be.

It was at the end of the class, however, when George felt his stomach churn in depression. 

“Is this supposed to be an elixir of cell regrowth, or an elixir of _death_ , Mr. Weasley?” Had George ever seen his teacher so foul in class before?  He couldn’t remember.  “The potion was supposed to be _purple!_ Not _yellow!_ If you were to give this potion to anyone with even the _slightest_ brain damage they would become a _vegetable_!”

Lee Jordan frowned at the look of devastation on his friend’s face; why was Snape so mad…?  He _hated_ those twins!  He stepped forward and showed his own, brilliantly bright purple potion.  “Sir…  That was my potion right there…  We accidentally mixed them up after putting them in the vial…”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and though it was clear he knew Jordan was lying, he still hissed, “Very well.  Exchange the vials and never allow me to see such an atrocious attempt at a potion again.”

The classroom begun emptying out.  Lee waited patiently for his friends, but it was while George packed his things away did the younger twin mumble, “You go ahead, Lee…  I want to ask Snape something…”

Lee didn’t argue.  George put his books back into his bag, but instead of sliding it over his shoulder and waking his brother, he instead dropped his bag back onto the floor and moved to stand by Snape’s desk now that the other students were gone.  He bowed his head; why was he even bothering…?  Snape wouldn’t care in the least…

“Sir…” George’s voice was mumbled, but he couldn’t change that; there was just so much emotion running through him, and he didn’t know what else to do.  “I was wondering…”

“Spit it out, Weasley,” Snape growled. 

“…I was wondering if you… could make Fred and I some dreamless potions…?” George’s frown grew under his teacher’s raised eyebrow.

“And why, may I enquire, would you wish to ask me such a thing?”

There was no point in lying, George knew; it would only ruin his chances.  “Because… I haven’t been able to sleep very well from nightmares…  I keep waking up…  And now Fred is getting them, too…”

“You do realise, Weasley, that for me to make you two such a potion could cost me my job?” Snape’s eyes narrowed.  “We would need the Headmaster’s permission for that.”

George’s eyes widened.  In disbelief, he cried out, “D-does that mean… you’ll _help_ us?”

“Only if the Headmaster approves it; he is rather fond of you two which is why he asked me to hold this lesson today.”

George nodded.  He looked over his shoulder to check on Fred before he said, “I’ll…  I’ll go and ask Dumbledore…  Thank you…”

Snape said nothing as George turned to leave.  He was silent until the older twin had been woken and they were both opening the classroom door before he called out, “Dreamless potions take about a week to make, Weasley.  I’m sure you can hold on until then.”

 

* * *

 

“Severus told you I asked him to teach that potion?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he observed the twins seated before him.  His gentle eyes fixed on Fred as he watched the older twin play with George’s long hair.  He shook his head.  “I assure you, Mr. Weasley…  Severus chose to teach you that potion out of his own free will.  I trust he allowed you all to keep what you made?”

George nodded.  He pulled out his small vial and showed the Headmaster.  “He was… really angry at me for messing mine up…  He made me switch with Lee’s potion because Lee did it properly…”

“There was a reason for that, Mr. Weasley.” A knowing look crossed Dumbledore’s face.  “He _wants_ you to use that potion on your brother.”

George pulled the stopper out and sniffed it.  “It doesn’t look the same purple as Snape’s did; it won’t…  It won’t hurt Fred, will it…?”

“Of course not; Severus would never have allowed it into your possession if it would hurt him.  Let him drink; it will not happen overnight, but it will certainly do him good in the long run.”

George nodded.  He brought the vial to his brother’s lips and held it there until Fred’s hands had dropped from his hair and instead to hold the crook of the younger’s bent elbow.  “Drink this, Freddie…  It’ll make you feel better…”

Fred trusted the younger so greatly, he didn’t hesitate to drink the oddly-coloured potion.  It left a nasty taste in his mouth, but if the other had wanted him to drink he, he was going to do so.  His face bunched up in a slight grimace as he scraped his tongue along the edges of his top teeth to try and remove the leftover taste. 

Though George noticed no immediate difference in his brother, it still made him feel a little lighter; hopefully some day in the future the old Fred would return – the only problem was…  Was he still going to be around to witness that day…?  Or would Voldemort finally get him for good…?

“What else is it you are here to ask me about, Mr. Weasley?” 

George’s eyes looked to the ground now.  “…Snape said he needs your permission for him to make us dreamless potions…”

Dumbledore was as gentle as ever as he asked, “Why is it you feel you need such potions, Mr. Weasley?  Those sorts of potions can have devastating side effects if used too much – losing ones’ sanity, their sense of reality…  People _forget_ what is real and what isn’t under the effects of those potions.  Dreams are an important thing  for us to have; it does not _do_ to block them out, no matter how badly one wishes to forget certain things.”

“Nightmares…”

“What about?”

George couldn’t tell the truth; he _couldn’t_!  He flinched and stuttered out, “A-about the… the end of the Triwizard Tournament…”

A smile crossed Dumbledore’s face now.  “Are you worried about Harry, Mr. Weasley?”

“No… I…” George closed his eyes.  “…It’s not that…  It’s…  Professor, I can’t explain it…  I’m…  I’m _scared_ …  I’d just…  I’d just like to stop thinking about it as much as I can…”

Dumbledore didn’t press matters any further; he instead said, “Very well.  I will speak to Severus and have him start on the potion for you both.  Oh, but Mr. Weasley?”

“Yeah…?”

“Your brother, Ronald, has made it a habit of visiting me.” It was concern George could make out on the old wizard’s face now.  “He is under the impression you are planning on throwing yourself off the astronomy tower.”

“No, sir…  Nothing like that…  I’ve just… been stressed…”

“You can talk to me about _anything,_ Mr. Weasley.  You will never be judged or condemned in this office.” It was almost as if the old man _knew_ ; why else would he speak in such an impossibly kind tone now…? 

George nodded.  He stood up to leave.  “Thank you for your time, sir…  We’ll see ourselves out.  C’mon, Freddie…  Let’s go get more chocolate frogs…”

Dumbledore watched them ago, and as much as he would have loved to question his student further, he knew not to; he had a feeling that if he were to try and drill the answers out of George, the poor thing really _would_ throw himself off the tower. 

 

* * *

 

It could have been an hour.  A day.  Months – _years_ since George had started taking those dreamless potions and he wouldn’t know the difference; he’d been taking them every night for so long – or, at least he was _sure_ he had been – that nowadays, everything just blurred into one; he’d wake up in the mornings, drag himself out of bed and give his brother a bath, and then…  Well, what _did_ he still do these days outside of acting like a carer?  Did he still go to classes now?  He hadn’t played Quidditch since his previous year.  He still talked with his friends, but he couldn’t remember the last time he, Fred and Lee Jordan had snuck out of the dorm at night – now it was just, lay in bed, Georgie; Fred will wake up in pain any minute now, Georgie; you need to give him his painkillers and help him get back to sleep, _Georgie_. 

Was it his lack of dreams doing the talking, or had George truly come to resent his brother’s dependency on him?  He didn’t know; he just hoped this wasn’t how he used to make Fred feel whenever he couldn’t sleep at night without the other’s arms around him, or how he’d beg Fred to stay with him when he was too sick to leave his bed – when he’d once been so afraid of his own shadow, Fred had dropped _everything_ to try and help him…

George wasn’t even sure what the hell was going on anymore; all he knew was that, while he was here in this fucking forest with those fucking Death Eaters in front of him, he felt his anger boiling over like a volcano _long_ overdue for eruption.

“He really hates you, Carri.” An amused chuckle escaped Lucius’ lips as he once again disarmed George to break the Cruciatus Curse on his comrade.  “Really has it out for you.  If you aren’t careful, he’s going to Avada Kedavra you soon.”

Carri, who had gotten back to his feet, snarled something under his breath as he grabbed a vicious hold of red hair and slammed the back of the twin’s head into a tree.  Splatters of blood stained the bark and rolled down the nape of his neck, but other than that, George made no sound of pain; his facial expression only twisted into one of loathing and resentment and _anger_. 

“We’re wasting our time with this one, Malfoy,” someone from the back growled out.  “He seems more interested in attacking _us_ than anything else.”

Lucius shook his head.  “He’s just about there.  We’ve almost broken him.  Look at his eyes.  Is that an expression any of you have _ever_ seen on a Weasley before?  He is so close to being broken.  I have to admire his resolve, however; months of this and he’s _still_ resisting us.  He has a lot of potential; we just need to strip him of everything that made him a Weasley in the first place.”

“I can handle _that_.”

A loud snarl from George filled the air as he recognised that voice as the one who had assaulted him last year.  He went to raise his wand and torture the other as much as _he_ had been tortured, but before he could do so, he was disarmed once again and left to be pinned against the tree by the other’s bodyweight. 

“Fuck off!” George’s loathing screams echoed around the forest.  “I’m going to _kill_ you!  I fucking hate you so much!” 

There was laughter all around them as George’s belt was unbuckled and his zip undone.  He struggled to get away, but the other was too strong for him and all he could do was snarl and curse and _scream_ as he felt himself being penetrated once more.

“Look at him thrash!  You must be splitting him in half, Robert!  Is he _that_ tight?!”

“He must be!  Look at all of the blood sliding down his thighs!”

“If anything is going to break that boy, it’s _this_.  We should have done this from the start!”

George stiffened in disgust when he finally felt hot fluids flowing inside of him, but just when he’d let out a breath of relief, someone else grabbed him by the hips and forced him face-down into the dirt to slam their hips together.

It went on for what must have been hours; Death Eater after Death Eater had taken him, but George never cried; he instead screamed death threats as he thrashed and writhed to be free of their touches, but it never ended; not until almost all of the dozen Death Eaters present had taken him and Lucius finally stepped forward with a look of disgust and pity on his face.

“That’s enough,” Lucius drawled.  “His eyes are that of a broken person’s.”

When he felt the Death Eater behind him finally pulling away, he slowly pushed himself up out of the dirt.  He wanted to wince and whimper at the pain all through his body, but he couldn’t give them that satisfaction; instead, he snarled, “Give me my fucking wand…”

Lucius smirked as he tossed the wand back to its master.  He watched George get back to unsteady feet and, after pulling his pants back up and tightening his belt, he staggered forward to head deeper into the forest.  The Death Eaters all followed him, cheering happily as George used Crucio on every living creature he came across. 

“We did it!  We broke him!”

“I knew we could do it!”

“He’s one of us now!”

The look on George’s face was feral.  His eyes were narrowed and his lips turned into a hateful sneer.  He’d just used Avada Kedavra on a fleeing werewolf before he turned around and snarled to Lucius, “I’m going back to my brother now.  Fuck all of you.”

“Oh, no you aren’t.” Lucius snatched hold of George’s wrist and tugged him closer.  “Within the hour, the Dark Lord _will_ rerise, and you will be coming with us to greet him when he does – all we need to wait for is Harry Potter to take the Portkey.”

“I’m _going_ to my brother!  Let go of me!  He doesn’t know where I am!”

“Draco said he’s perfectly fine with your dear younger brother as they watch the last task; I’m sure he won’t miss you so terribly much – he probably doesn’t even remember who you are.”

George started screaming angrily again as he tried to break free of the man’s grip, but once Lucius had grabbed him around the middle and restrained him, he whimpered as his arm throbbed painfully hard and he realised what was happening; Voldemort was calling…

It all happened so fast, George had barely been aware of Lucius Apparating them from the Forbidden Forest out to what appeared to be a graveyard, but as he stood there, looking around at his new surroundings with a hateful expression on his face, he froze at the sight of the two Hogwarts champions standing before him in a confused daze.

“Boy, would _you_ like to do the honours?” Lucius leant down and whispered into his ear, “We don’t need that Diggory child.”

Green light erupted from the end of George’s wand, and Cedric Diggory – a student who had once been his friend – lay dead on the ground, with Harry Potter staring in disbelief.

“G-george…” Harry was shaken, but it did nothing to calm George down from his wild state.  “What…  What would _Fred_ think…?”

“Don’t talk about my brother!” George screamed.  He went to kill another good friend of his, but before he could do so, his wand was snatched from his hand and Lucius had punched him in the face.

“Potter is the _Dark Lord’s_ victim; it will be in your best interest to leave him _alive_ ,” Lucius hissed.  “Now watch.  Watch as the Dark Lord is _reborn,_ boy.”

 

* * *

 

The Malfoy Manor was a dark, foreboding place, but even so, it was welcome to him right now; he knew he could never go home again, and at least he had a nice, comfortable bed, even if he _was_ down in one of the cells.  He lay on the bed, staring up at the roof.  Strangely, he didn’t feel upset or worried or…  Really, he didn’t feel _anything_.  He felt numb, as if there was nothing left inside of him. 

“Dinner, boy.”

George lifted his head to look at the cell gate when Lucius’ voice drifted between the bars.  He shrugged; however delicious that meal looked, he wasn’t hungry.  Lucius said nothing as he put the plate on the ground and turned back to go upstairs.

Sleep that night was restless.  No matter how hard he tried to sleep, he couldn’t stop dreaming of his brother.  It was about the third time he woke up in a cold sweat at his brother’s devastated face did he reach into his pockets and pull out his last vial of dreamless potion.  He swallowed it eagerly like an alcoholic getting their fix, and with that, he slept through to the next morning.

It was when Lucius allowed him to come upstairs for breakfast did the twin finally speak again, in a voice so haunted, he was sure someone else was talking.  “I need to find my brother again.  I need to make him hate me.  I won’t be able to sleep again knowing he’s out there pining for me.  I’ll feel better knowing he doesn’t want me anymore.”

Lucius chuckled.  “I’m sure we can… _arrange_ something, boy.”  


	10. Chapter 10

“Draco, take the boy to Borgin and Burke’s and have him equipped with everything he is going to need, will you?”

George’s face was a blank state as he looked up from his breakfast to stare at Lucius.  He had been living at the Malfoy Manor for a bit over a month now, but never had this conversation come up before – though that could also have been because he spent all his time down in his tiny ‘bedroom’ when he hadn’t been summoned for meals and meetings.   

Draco sneered at the redhead, but he knew not to argue against his father for such matters.  He nodded, and as he pushed his plate away, he said, “I’ve eaten.  Let’s get going, _Weasley_.”

“Come now, Draco, I see no rush that you should deprive him of his meal.” Lucius’ eyes fixed on the plate of food that hadn’t been touched in the twenty minutes they had been here for before they skimmed over George’s body that had become so thin from lack of eating, he was a walking skeleton.  “He will not be of much use to the Dark Lord if we can’t fatten him up some; he’s much too underweight.”

“He’s already fat as a bloody pig,” Draco sneered.  “He could stand to _lose_ some pounds, actually, father.”

“Don’t argue.  Just do as you’re told, Draco.”

If George had cared anything for the argument right in front of him, he didn’t anymore once they arrived at Diagon Alley and pushed through the hordes of people to get to Knockturn Alley.  The redhead wore a thick cape and a hood that hid his face from everyone; all the _Missing_ posters plastered everywhere with his face and a giant _WARNING – DO NOT APPROACH_ may have made things harder for them to go about their business undisturbed if people knew who they were walking past.

So it came as a shock when, as he and Draco had been standing not far from the entrance of Knockturn Alley, a strange aura of dread washed over him, and arms wrapped around his middle in an embrace.

It broke his heart to realise that those arms, and that thin, _thin_ body pressed up against his belonged to Fred, and all resolve he had been broken of quickly came back to the surface as it took everything he had to not turn around and hold his brother tight and _promise_ him that everything was going to be okay – no…  If he were to do that… 

He _couldn’t_ ; people knew what he had become…

“Fuck _off_ , Fred,” George hissed.  He spun around and shoved the older twin in the chest to break their contact.  His emotions turned wild once again, and though he was sure he may have been able to control himself so as to not hurt Fred badly, he lost all the confidence in his self-restraint when Fred stumbled back to his side again.  That anger he was constantly feeling boiled all the way back to the surface, and it no longer mattered that there were dozens of people on the streets watching them; all that mattered was creating his twin’s hatred.  “Fred!  Go away!  I don’t _want_ you!”

“George!” It was Ron’s voice calling from somewhere close by, and as he looked around, he found his youngest brother clutching Ginny tightly, both looking terrified.  Were they right to feel that way?  He wasn’t sure; part of him was glad they hated him, but at the same time…  _Was_ he capable of causing harm to Fred, just like they were thinking he was going to?  “George, leave him alone!”

George glanced back to where Draco _had_ been but found the other had disappeared into the shadows somewhere.  He felt his body trembling with anger; there wasn’t going to be an easy way to do this, but now was perhaps the only chance he would get to be able to do things properly. 

“Fred…” George’s hand ghosted intimately up his brother’s arm and over his shoulder until his fingers caressed the other’s pale neck in a tender, almost affectionate manner.  He rubbed circles into the soft flesh before, ever so slowly, his fingertips curled inwards and he was crushing his twin’s windpipe.  He growled, “I _hate_ you, Fred.  I hate you so much…  That’s why I left.  Why I ran away.  Because I didn’t want you anymore.  And I’ll _never_ want you again – _ever_.”

Fred whimpered, and tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to pull the younger’s hand away so he could breathe again.  He heard Ron running towards them, and he figured that was what had made George let go as the other hadn’t showed any intentions of releasing his grip until heavy footsteps rushed to them. 

“Stay back, Ron!” George had spun Fred around so he was holding the other like a hostage, with his wand against Fred’s throat that was already showing signs of deep bruising.  “You come near me and I’m going to _kill_ him.  You _hear_ me?!”

“George…” Ron felt so sick; how had George ever gotten onto this path…?  He didn’t know about the rest of his family, but he’d known something had been _very_ wrong with his brother – and he’d done _nothing_ to try and help George; he’d ignored the other’s cries for help and only avoided getting involved as best he could.  Why…?  Because he’d been _scared_ of George and what the other was capable of doing in those states.  If he had just…  If he had _tried_ to help…  They may not be here today…  He’d seen this coming that day in their shop in the unused bathroom, but he’d ignored it, convincing himself he was overthinking things and George was going to be _fine_ …  “George, _stop!_ This isn’t you, mate…”

“You really think so?  _Crucio_.”  As much as George _hated_ to hear Fred’s screams, he had to keep going; he couldn’t stop now; this was for Fred’s own good.  They _all_ had to learn to give up on George, to think that he was too far gone to be saved – but most important of all; they had to learn how to _forget_ he even _existed_.  In the coming years, he’d wonder how he could have ever concluded that torturing his own _twin_ like this would ever help his family to forget his existence – instead, it’d only drive memories they would never be able to shake from their minds, just like the memories he suffered from every day and night.

“George, you’re _hurting_ him!” Ginny’s scream was horrible, but still, George kept the curse going until his brother had crumpled at his feet. 

“Fred…” George glared down at his twin.  When the other’s head moved weakly to peer up at him, he aimed a kick into the older male’s stomach, hard enough to make Fred vomit.  “Fred, _hate_ me.  _Resent_ me.  But most of all…  _Forget_ me.  I mean _nothing_ to you now.  Do you understand?  _Nothing_.”

It was when a shaking hand reached out towards George did the younger feel his resolve shattering; how could Fred _still_ want him after this…?

“I _told_ you to _forget_ about me!” George roared as he aimed punch after punch in his twin’s face.  His knee swung out, knocking the breath from Fred before he kicked as hard as he could into the other’s groin.  “ _Why are you still reaching to me when I want you to_ hate _me?!”_

Despite the blood trickling from the corners of his mouth, Fred still found it in him to whimper, “…You… don’t… hate… me…”

“What the hell gives you that idea?!” George rammed his elbow into Fred’s nose, filling the air with a loud crack and a steady flow of blood that quickly made the immediate area look like a murder scene.  “You think I’m _beating_ you because I _love_ you?!”

“Yes…!” Fred crumpled once more, and again his hand reached out.  “You… don’t want… to have left me… alone…  And it’s easier for you… to think I hate you back…”

George froze; where the hell had that all come from…?  Had that potion Snape had them make been piecing Fred’s mind back together in his absence?  Or was their twin-connection still so powerful, Fred was reading him like a book despite the brain damage? 

“…” George looked between Fred, to Ron and Ginny, before he let out an agonised scream and raised his wand to Fred once again.  He screamed so loud, his voice cracked, _“Crucio!”_

And that… was the last time he saw any of his family until Harry Potter went after the prophecy. 


	11. Chapter 11

It had been three years since George had abandoned everything and resigned himself to the life of a Death Eater.  Three long, _agonising_ years that had turned him into something he could have never thought he’d ever be – not in a million years, even if Voldemort himself had come knocking at his door and asked him to join.  He was bitter.  He was angry.  And though he didn’t know how it was possible with just how much of himself had been eaten away by his own negativity, he felt _empty_. 

Was it the things he had done in the name of Voldemort that kept him up at night, with his fingernails dragging through the flesh of his wrists until his bed was so wet with blood, he knew he was going to be yelled at in the morning for ruining yet another mattress?  Without the aide of a dreamless potion every night, he knew he’d never have been able to sleep again – not when, every time he closed his eyes, he relived everything he had done in the past three years.

The faces of the people he had tortured would stare back at him in silence.  The screams of victims and the laughter of his fellow Death Eaters would ring through his mind twenty-four-seven like an annoying bell chime he couldn’t work out how to turn off.  Ghostly sensations would claw all over his body as he recalled exactly how it felt to have someone on him, fighting desperately for their life as he tortured and killed and _raped_. 

But he knew it was because he was doing all of this that his family was still safe; Death Eaters may be evil, heartless beings, but they seemed to keep their words; his joining their side and doing what they told him to was the only thing keeping his family safe and away from their attention and _alive_.  No matter how much he wished for death, he forced himself to keep going; he knew that if he were to fail on his end of the bargain, his family would pay the cost.  Maybe it was sick of him, but it was the comfort in knowing his sacrifice had been for the best that helped him push through his days, even though he knew he could _never_ escape. 

His father didn’t work for the Ministry anymore and never would again, Lucius had once told him after he had asked how his father was taking George’s defection.  Arthur hadn’t worked there in a _long_ time, not after he had gone through several enquiries and then their entire _family_ had been summoned to the Wizengamot for investigation.  Lucius _had_ been able to tell him, however, that the last time he’d seen any of the Weasleys, every one of them looked as if they’d been hit hard by severe depression.

“Your family has become so poor, even your mother looks rather slim,” Lucius had told him in a manner that George had never been able to work out if it were mocking or pitying.  “Although it’s hard to know if it’s because of money troubles or depression as even their hair and clothes were filthy.  I don’t believe they’ve been able to eat very well.  I did hear your twin had to go back to St. Mungo’s for a feeding tube, the lack of food had hit him so hard.”

George knew that information should have broken his heart, pulled at his emotions – but instead, all he had been able to do was shrug; it was okay if they were struggling so terribly because at least they weren’t _dead_ and his sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing.  …Was it selfish he seemed more concerned about whether having done this could have ended up being all in vain?  He didn’t know, but he couldn’t exactly bring himself to care, either.

The owls never seemed to stop arriving, even though he’d never once replied to a single one of them since his time with the Malfoys. 

_Dear George,_

_Wherever you are, I hope you’re doing better now than you were during school._

_Love, mum._

It wasn’t normal for Molly to send such a short letter, but what else could she say, really?  I hope you haven’t killed too many people this week and are eating your vegetables?  Or was it just that he was disappointed she hadn’t once sent him a howler and told him how she _really_ felt about all this? 

_George,_

_I don’t blame you for the choices you made.  Disappointed, yes.  But you were tainted badly by dark magic, and none of us tried at all to help you.  We were so focused on Fred we overlooked you and forgot you needed help, too.  It was wrong of us to leave Fred as your responsibility; we should all have been a family and looked out for_ everyone, _but we didn’t.  We did_ nothing _for Fred, nothing except leave him with you without even considering you may need your own time alone to deal with everything that had happened.  We put too much pressure on you and didn’t get you any help when you needed it most._

 _I’m sorry we weren’t a better family to you, but we_ did _try.  It just wasn’t enough._

_Love always, dad._

How could his father still love him with everything that had happened?  Didn’t Arthur know he was just a _monster_ , undeserving of _anyone’s_ love.  George just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. 

The letters from his siblings – minus Percy, who hadn’t written to him once – were usually enough to rock his stoic disposition and bring him to tears.  They kept him updated with happenings at home, telling him things like how Ron got Prefect, Charlie had a bad encounter with a dragon that had almost killed him, and Bill had managed to break one of the trickiest curses out there on his own. 

Even his friends sent him letters.  Lee Jordan would write him a letter every week without fail, telling him about anything and everything that was going on in his life.  Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell sent at least one letter to him every month, begging him to come home and that no matter how much he thought he would be unwelcome to ever return, he was dead wrong.  Harry and Hermione would write him, too, and he’d even get the odd letter from Oliver Wood and some of the younger Gryffindors from Ron’s year level.

In a way, it was comforting to be kept up to date with what was happening with everyone, but the only problem was, no one ever said anything about Fred or told him how he was doing – it was almost like they didn’t _want_ him to know. 

“Have you heard anything about my brother…?”

Draco sniggered, and his smirk was wide as he mocked, “Which brother?  You have six of them.”

Lucius, who was seated on the couch next to his son, whacked his cane over the back of the younger’s head.  “Don’t be so rude to our guest, Draco.  He simply wants to know how his twin is doing.”

“Oh, _that_ one.” Draco rolled his eyes.  “Last I heard, he’s been in and out of St. Mungo’s.  He went insane after you attacked him in Diagon Alley.”

As George’s eyes went wide with horror, Lucius rolled his own.  “He is not telling you the truth, boy; relax.  I believe your twin is fine; I understand he’s filled the void you left in him with your youngest brother.”

“I thought you hated him,” Draco pointed out.  “That’s what you said to him before you beat him black and blue.”

George shook his head.  “I _try_ and hate him…  But I _can’t_ …”

“Don’t dwell too much on it tonight, boy.” Lucius stood.  “Get yourself cleaned up; we will be having some… _guests_ , and the Dark Lord expects you to be present among us.”

George nodded.  He left the living room to go back to his quarters and have a shower.  It wasn’t so bad staying here; as long as they could use him like a slave, they treated him decently enough. 

“Oh, but first… Boy…”

George stopped again.  “Yeah?”

“I expect the Dark Lord will have you accompany us to retrieve Harry Potter when they try and move him.  Have Draco take you out on the broomsticks after dinner so you can be in shape.”

The younger gave a silent nod before he went back to his quarters.  He let out a deep breath as he laid down on his bed, and though he didn’t much have the energy to move, he knew he needed to do something.  He had to reduce his stress, but how…?

“Fred…” George closed his eyes as he slipped his hand past the hem of his pants.  He wasn’t hard at all, but he knew he could eventually get there if he thought of Fred.  He licked his lips as he slipped his hand around his cock.  “Fred…”

Before he could get very far, however, his door was knocked on.  “Be in the dining room in one hour, boy.  Don’t be late.”

 

* * *

 

George _hated_ the meetings with Voldemort.  The Dark Lord could barely seem to keep his eyes off the younger, and every greeting was the same; _I never thought I’d see the day where a_ Weasley _became a Death Eater.  You have a burning courage inside you, child._

George always replied in the same manner, showing off that ‘braveness’ that Voldemort liked so much.  “I’m not here because I _want_ to be; I’d sooner lick the shit off Malfoy’s shoes than follow a wanker like _you_.”

The first time he had said it, he was sure he was going to be killed on the spot.  But after several seconds of being glared at, Voldemort only broke into laughter and encouraged his bravery more. 

But there were upsides to these meetings, albeit incredibly rarely.  Like tonight, after everyone got ready to leave after discussing what they were going to do with Harry Potter on the night he would be moved.  He had been lucky enough to catch Snape before he left, and though the man glared down at him, he still gave the younger his time.

“My brother…” George’s eyes were hardened, and his facial expression was contorted with a constant anger he could never seem to rid himself of anymore.  “Do you know anything about my brother?”

Snape gave a curt nod.  “He is doing fine.  A lot of the brain damage has healed.  We should not expect a full recovery, and it is likely he may never recover his memories and will still require consistent retraining – however, I think you will be pleased to know that, despite his disabilities, he has been rather self-dependant as of late; I hear he gave himself a bath not long ago.”

George gave a small sigh of disappointment.  “Can’t you make him another potion for the brain damage?  O-or…  I’ll make it, and…  And you give it to him so they don’t know it was me…?  I want them to think I’m dead…”

“It would be just fine to give him a second dosage of the potion – however, I strongly recommend not doing so for another six or seven years; it would not be wise to _over-_ accelerate the regrowth as it can do more harm than good.  As for them thinking you are dead…  Well, Mr. Weasley, do you really think _any_ of your friends or family are that stupid?  They know you are not dead.  Although…  They know you are in _great_ pain.”

“…” George looked away.  He changed the subject, not wanting their conversation to go down the path he knew it was going to.  “Do you have any more dreamless potions for me?”

Snape said nothing as he reached into his pocket and withdrew several vials.  George pocketed them quickly, and with that, the Potions Master turned around to leave.  “He doesn’t hate you, you know?”

Before George could question what Snape meant, the man was gone, and he found himself putting one of the vials of dreamless potion aside to send to Fred with a note that simply read, _For when there’s so much you don’t want to remember_.

 

* * *

 

“I was pretty surprised when he said he doesn’t want you to come after Potter.” Draco was flying around casually on his broomstick with George not far from him.  There was no rush between them; just the two enjoying the night air for once.  “I wonder what he meant when he said he has a different idea for you.”

George shrugged.  “I don’t care _what_ he wants me for…  I hope whatever it is kills me anyway…”

Draco sneered.  “You say that, but if you really wanted to die, you’d have let yourself be killed by now.”

“Am I supposed to jump in front of an Avada Kedavra for some fucking Death Eater and take the curse myself?” George snorted bitterly.  “I don’t think so.  I hope they _all_ die – me included.  I’m just not letting myself get killed for one of _them_ …”

Malfoy hovered his broom on the spot.  He nudged the older male in the side with his elbow before he muttered gloomily, “I didn’t want this either, you know…  My father… pushed it on me…”

“At least you didn’t have to abandon your family.” The twin’s eyes burned with anger.  “I had to…  I had to leave _everything_ behind.  Every morning I wake up, and the first thing I think… is that no matter what, I can never go home again…”

“They haven’t disowned you.” For the first time since George had ever known him, Draco spoke without malice and a strong tone that suggested he was telling the truth for once.  “I know this because when I went back to Hogwarts last year, I was listening to your brother and sister talking to people about you on the train.  Talking about how much they miss you and how they won’t give up hope you’ll come back again one day.”

“I can’t go back…  It’d only get them killed…  They’re better off moving on…”

Draco fell silent for several minutes.  And then…  “Wanna play Quidditch?”

And for the first time in three years, a tiny smile ghosted across George’s face.  “Sure…”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take George long to find out what Voldemort had in mind for him because, soon enough, he was sent out with several other Death Eaters, hanging tightly onto Bellatrix Lestrange’s arm as she Disapparated them somewhere.

It was when he was next standing in a familiar field of crops did George understand where he was.  “Why are we at the Burrow?”

“To get Harry Potter out into the open.  I’ll lure him out; the rest of you, be prepared.”

George felt emotionless as he watched the way Bellatrix ran off towards his childhood home.  He knew he should have flinched, should have felt _something_ as he watched the spells she cast slam into his home, but instead, he didn’t move; all he could do was stand and watch until finally, he was given the signal to move in. 

He followed the other Death Eaters’ leads, and casting every devastating spell he could think of, he watched with empty eyes as the Burrow burnt down to the ground.  Somewhere along the way, his eyes locked onto Fred’s, and though George’s eyes conveyed _nothing_ as they stared at each other _,_ Fred’s glistened with tears.

It was that night George found out his wand wouldn’t allow him to cast Avada Kedavra on himself. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a late chapter; though this story has been finished for a long time on my end, there have been several things in my life I've been dealing with which pushed back putting the chapters out. Deepest apologies for this.

When Voldemort had declared war on Hogwarts to get to Harry, George found himself fixated heavily on several of his siblings. He didn’t understand why he wanted to kill them so badly after everything he had done to keep them safe, but he supposed it was because everything seemed so hopeless, they may as well die at his hands where he could at least be merciful enough to make it quick for them. 

Fred was there, looking much better than the last time George had seen him in Diagon Alley, but _far_ from one-hundred percent; his dazed expression was still present as he stumbled through the corridors, although, despite how bad his brain injury had been when George had left, his brother was using his wand remarkably well, taking out other Death Eaters left and right and deflecting everything cast at him with ease.  Percy and Ron had stuck close to him – protective of their brother, George recognised - with Harry and Hermione not far away, trying to take down the rest of the Death Eaters who were running loose around the immediate vicinity. 

George was feral, though.  It may have been the bitterness inside of him, but all he wanted was to end their lives here and now.  He’d been hit repeatedly with non-deadly spells in an attempt to stop his rampage, but no matter how badly he was dragging his leg bloodied with torn ligaments and shredded flesh, or how agonising it was to wave his wand around with a shoulder that had had its sockets and muscles torn apart, he wasn’t stopping; he _couldn’t_ stop until they were all dead at his feet, finally away from all the carnage and _horror_ life had to offer.  He’d lost count of how many times they’d tried to petrify him, or relax his muscles so much, he couldn’t move, but no matter what they threw at him, he broke through it all out of pure willpower.    

“George, stop!” Percy shielded himself after stumbling over a dead body he hadn’t seen behind him as he and his brothers backed further up at George’s charge.  Fred helped him to his feet while Ron tried to disarm the younger twin once again, only to have his spell deflected so fast, it had happened in the blink of an eye.  “George!  Stop!  We’re your _brothers_!”

George let out a scream, one that wasn’t pain but wasn’t quite anger, either – despair?  Hopelessness?  He wasn’t sure; all he could do was continue aiming killing curses at his siblings.

“Sectumsempra!” From behind him, Harry’s wand omitted a burst of light, and George let out a howl of pain as blood flowed down the side of his face and his neck, saturating his flesh and clothing as if he had dunked his upper body into a swimming pool of red.  He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth; Potter was going to _pay_ for that one!

Another spell whizzed past George from Ron’s wand, but it wasn’t aimed at him; it had hit a Death Eater behind him.  “George, why are you doing this?!  We _love_ you, George!  Come _home!_ ”

Those words did nothing for the deranged twin; all that mattered was killing his siblings before anyone else made them suffer more than they needed to.  He felt dizzy with all of the blood he was losing from the side of his head, but that didn’t stop him screaming, “I’m _never_ coming home because there won’t _be_ any of you _left_ to come home _to!_ I’m gonna kill _all_ of you!”

A dark red spell shot towards the others, but Fred jumped in front of Percy and Ron and deflected it away.  Again, his eyes held a look of agony, and he lowered his wand.  His lips moved soundlessly, as if he wanted to say something but hadn’t quite worked up the courage to say it out loud.  He eventually took a step forward before he set a slow, careful pace to close the distance between he and his twin.  “Georgie…  Georgie, I –“

There was a deafening bang from George’s side before he was thrown into the wall opposite him.  The roaring of the wall exploding left a ringing in his ears, and when he opened his eyes and blinked blood out of his vision to try and see through his sudden migraine, he was just in time to make out the sight that was Ron and Percy crowded together, screaming in horror, next to a huge slab of crushingly-heavy stone wall where a head of red hair was peeking out from beneath it.  Harry and Hermione were trying to climb over the rubble to get to the scene, and somehow, for reasons George was sure he was never going to understand, he felt _nothing_ as he realised his twin was the one trapped beneath the slab, unmoving. 

His wand laying a few feet away from him caught his attention now; if he hurried, he could get his wand and kill them all where they stood.  He realised then as he tried to stand upright that his leg had finally broken, large bones snapped completely in half and poking out of his skin, and it was his scream of pain that alerted Harry to the fact that George was still there with them.

The raven-haired boy rushed forward and snatched away George’s wand before the twin could get to it, and with tear-filled eyes, he pointed his own wand at the older male and hissed, “Get out of here, George…  _Just get_ out _of here!”_

 

* * *

 

It was after Voldemort dragged Harry’s dead body back to Hogwarts what was surely hours later to begin recruiting did George’s foul temper only rise; while another Death Eater had fixed his leg for him so he could at least _stand_ , it wasn’t completely mended and was hurting like an absolute bitch. 

“Who here would like to join our ranks?” Voldemort invited as if he were hosting a game show or something.  “Don’t be shy; come forward!”

It must have been the fact that George had dragged himself on his almost completely useless leg to the front of the line to see what was happening, because suddenly, Fred – who must have simply been knocked unconscious under that wall - tried to run towards the Death Eaters.  George’s heart stopped; after everything he had done to his brother… Fred _still_ wanted to be with him…?

“Fred, no!” Molly’s arms were wrapped tightly around her son, as tight as she could be without hurting any of the blood-soaked bandages around his head and body – most likely from where the wall had exploded on them all previously.  “Fred!”

Fred had broken free, and while Ron and Percy chased after him to drag him back away from Voldemort, George snatched a wand from a Death Eater next to him and stepped forward, pointing it at his twin and stopping all three of them in their tracks.

“Get back, Fred!” George shouted.  “If you come any closer, I’m going to _kill_ you!”

“Fred…” Percy took steps so slow towards his younger brother, he had only moved three spaces in the thirty seconds that had passed by.  “Fred, don’t…  Don’t go to them, Fred…”

Everyone in the courtyard watched with baited breaths as George pointed the stolen wand at Percy next.  Ignoring the agonising tugging deep within his shoulder at the actions, he jerked the wand towards Fred and then back to Percy.  “Take him back.  _Now_.  Or I’ll kill you, too.”

At being given permission to move closer, Percy quickly closed the distance between he and Fred, but as soon as his long fingers curled around his younger brother’s wrist, Fred run forward once more, breaking the contact and getting ever closer to his twin with each passing step. 

The Death Eaters were full of laughter now, and even Voldemort was getting a chuckle of out of this.

“Another Weasley who wants to join ranks!  Though this one looks pretty beaten up!” Voldemort laughed again before he turned to look at George’s blood-soaked, battered appearance.  He gave a pleased smirk at the visible pain etched so much on the younger twin’s face, even a blind man couldn’t have missed that he was in fucking _agony._   “Oh, well.  I’m sure we can train you up into something just like your brother; he hasn’t disappointed me once.”

It was when Fred’s arms wrapped tightly around George, and George felt hot tears on his neck did all the years of anger and hatred and _bitterness_ melt; throughout it all, Fred had never stopped loving him, just like how he had never stopped loving _Fred_.  He lifted his hand to wipe away the blood that was still dripping from the top of his head and into his eyes from where he had been thrown into the wall, and he winced through the migraine he couldn’t get rid of so he could drop his snatched wand to the ground and instead put his hands on his brother’s shoulders to push him back towards the rest of their family.  “Fred…  Fred, go back…  You don’t want this life…”

 “I know I don’t…” Fred’s tears came harder.  “I don’t… want to live like that…  But I want… to live with Georgie… even if I have to do something I don’t want…”

George was stunned.  Voldemort’s chilling laugh rang through the open courtyard.  “Touching.  So very touching.  Who would have guessed we’d have a family reunion here and now?  I certainly didn’t.”

George looked back to where Percy and Ron had frozen.  Ron had tears rolling steadily down his cheeks as the realisation he was about to lose another brother to Voldemort hit him like a rampaging rhinoceros.  Percy looked as shell-shocked as George felt, but George understood; Percy was feeling just as much a failure as _he_ was for not being able to protect _either_ of the twins.  He narrowed his eyes through the dried blood that caked all around them, and he growled, “ _Take_ him, Percy.  What are you waiting for?  _Get_ him!”

Percy’s legs started to move once again, but he stopped when Voldemort’s wand was the next to point at him.  He gulped, but he was a Weasley, and as difficult as it was, he still forced out in a wavering tone, “You took _one_ brother from us and you can’t have another!”

Voldemort’s laugh was cold, chilling and _evil_.  He grabbed at the back of Fred’s shirt still wet with fresh blood and tugged him away from George.  “Did you just tell _me_ what I can and can’t do, Weasley?  Look at this child; beaten black and blue but still has his mind made up.  He _chose_ to join our side through his own free will, and I’m _sure_ he’s old enough to make his own decisions in life.  This is what _he_ chose.”

George’s mouth dropped open in horror; after everything he had gone through to try and _protect_ Fred from this… 

“You can stay, boy; we’ll make something of you, too.”

It was those words that pushed him over the edge.  That anger that had been consuming him for three years returned with a vengeance, and George gave a yell as he stomped forward to tug Fred back to him and away from Voldemort’s disgusting, prying hands he knew _far_ too well to ever want to tell anyone about.  “No!  You can’t have him!  I only became a Death Eater to _protect_ my family!  Well, if they’re going to die here anyway, I’m leaving!  You can kill me along with them because I won’t let you take my brother into this!  I’d sooner have him die at my own hands than ever have him be in my position!”

Voldemort sneered.  “You were so eager to kill your family just hours ago.  Why has this changed, boy?  Because of your brother?  Extraordinary bond you have there.  But I’m afraid it’ll do you no good.  Avada Kedav –“

“-Expelliarmus!” It was Neville Longbottom’s cry from the back of the courtyard that told George to drag himself back to his family if he had to; there was bedlam as everyone started fighting again, and if it weren’t for Percy who had _finally_ swallowed his fear and moved to his twin brothers’ sides to help them out of the madness and into the castle, he was sure they would have been killed in that courtyard within minutes.

It was chaos.  Complete and utter chaos.  People everywhere, spells flying all over the place, and all George could do was fight against his fading vision as blood loss from his wounded head became almost too much to withstand anymore.  It was Fred, who was sitting with him in a corner holding a cloth against what was left of his ear and the top of his head still oozing blood that kept him calm.

He didn’t know what had happened; one minute he had been so hateful towards the world, he wanted to kill _everyone_.  Now…  He was just relieved to be back by Fred’s side.

“Freddie…?” George was growing weaker by the minute; if this was where he died, he needed to tell the truth.  “…I… don’t… hate…”

And then, his consciousness was gone, and Fred howled in despair.


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you understand why you’re here today?”

“Because my parents don’t want me put in Azkaban for being a Death Eater…” George glared down at the scarring on his arm that had once been the dark mark but now looked more like the handiwork of a blender.  “They’re _scared_ of me, aren’t they…?”

A middle-aged man with glasses and short brown hair offered a smile.  He gestured to the end of the hospital bed George was laying in.  “May I sit?”

George nodded.  “How did they get money for a psychologist?  My parents…  My brother, Ron…  He told me they didn’t even have money to buy my sister’s school books this year…”

“I believe a family friend is paying for our sessions together – a mister Potter if I’m not mistaken.  My name is John Philips.”

George hesitated, but he took the hand anyway.  “George…”

“Hello, George.  I’d just like to ask you a few questions.  It may really help your case if we can prove in the trial you did not become a Death Eater willingly.”

“I didn’t…  I just… wanted to protect my brother…  They were going to take him instead…”  George glared down at his lap as the memory made him shake with anger.  “If they took Fred…  Fred would be _dead_ …”

John looked back at the closed door for a few seconds.  “Your mother is waiting right outside.  Is it okay if she comes in?  She’s very concerned.”

George nodded.  He stayed silent until his mother was sitting next to him, caressing his hair and holding him tight. 

“If there are any questions you don’t wish to answer, please let me know and we can move on.”  John gave a gentle smile, and even though he didn’t receive anything except a blank look from George and stressed frown from Molly, he continued.  “Now, you said they were going to take your brother instead?  It was a very admirable thing of you to sacrifice yourself for his sake.”

“Yeah, they wanted him instead, so I said they could have me as long as they left my family alone…”  George ignored his mother’s gasp; if this was upsetting her, he’d hate to see how she reacted to the rest of it…  “They kept…  Well, they called it ‘breaking’ me…  They’d torture me, and at one point raped me… until I could perform Crucio on something that _wasn’t_ them…  After I… tortured half the Forbidden Forest, they kidnapped me from Hogwarts…”

“Sweetheart…” Tears rolled down Molly’s cheeks as she tightened her embrace around her son. 

“You were tortured so badly, you partially lost your mind…” John scribbled something in his notebook.  “Losing ones’ mind due to Crucio is, unfortunately, seen a lot.  However, it’s amazing you only lost a partial amount of your sanity and was able to hold on to the rest.  I imagine you had ‘triggers’ which would set you off?  And perhaps even some relaxants to pull you back out of the haze?”

George nodded.  “They knew how to control me…  How to make me lose my mind…  I tried to kill my brothers, I’d lost it so badly…  It was seeing my brother refusing to abandon me that brought me back…  I did so much to him… And still, he only wanted to be with me…”

“They blackmailed you into becoming a Death Eater, with threats against your family’s lives, correct?”

“Yes…”

“How long had they been torturing you for before you snapped?”

“A _long_ time…  Everyone was worried about me because I was just so angry and depressed all the time…  They all kept trying to help me, ask what was wrong…  Even Dumbledore knew something was wrong with me…  But I couldn’t tell anyone…  I could only tell them I was scared…”

“And would these people be willing to testify at your trial, do you think?”

“…” George frowned.  “Most of them are dead…  I think my younger brother… is the only one still alive I confided in…”

“I’m sorry for asking so many difficult questions…  You really went through a lot…”

George nodded.  “S’okay…”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart; we won’t let you be put in Azkaban,” Molly promised. 

“Mum…” What had to be the most heartbreaking expression she had ever seen on her son’s face appeared, and Molly braced for what George had to say.  “…I _deserve_ Azkaban.”

 

* * *

 

The Trial happened sooner than George had thought it would – in fact, it happened almost as soon as he had been discharged from St. Mungo’s.  His entire family came for him, as well as several friends and acquaintances willing to testify George’s worrisome behaviour prior to the Diggory boy’s death.

“Can we call Fredrick Weasley to the stand?”

Arthur winced.  He stood up at the back of the room and called, “My son is in no position to testify _anything_!”

Fred looked to his father, and though his face held such an exhausted look, he still mumbled, “It’s okay…  I can do this…”

His gait was still wobbly, and he took his time to get down the stairs, but finally, he found himself seated in the witness chair.  He held his head as he stared through half-lidded eyes, trying so hard to ignore the migraine that had come back that morning.    

“Fredrick Weasley, were you aware of George Weasley having dealings with Death Eaters?”

“No…”

“Were you aware he had been _contacted_ by Death Eaters with intention to recruit?”

“No…”

“Mr. Weasley, what _can_ you tell us about Mr. Weasley?”

Fred’s trembling grew worse as he looked back to his parents for support.  They nodded at him, so he took a deep breath and mumbled, “That he wasn’actin’ normal for a long time…”

“We can’t trust this witness; this boy lost his memories!  How does _he_ know what’s normal and what isn’t?!”

Fred chewed at his lip.  “I know…  Because even though I lost my memories…  I never lost my connection with Georgie…  It was still there…  So deeply ingrained, I _felt_ him in Diagon Alley…  He was wearing a hood and… and a cloak and no one could have picked him out…  But…  I knew it was him…  I could _feel_ him hurting me… because he didn’t want me to get involved with what’ver he got mixed up in…  He tried to drive me ‘way… for my own sake…  He spent so much time with me… when… when my brain wasn’t working properly…  He looked after me…  Did e‘rythin’ for me…  He would _never_ have thrown me away… if he didn’t have a good reason…”

There were murmurs throughout the courtroom.  “When you say he wasn’t acting normal, what do you mean?”

“He was… always on edge…  Grumpy…  Everything stressed him…  Everything _upset_ him…  He’d get up and leave me… with our friends… and run ‘way like death was after him…  He’d be gone all day… coming back bloodied an’ bruised…  _Angry_ …  He never did let me… find out what was happening…”

“Do you think Mr. Weasley is _capable_ of being a Death Eater?”

“No.” It was the first time in so long Fred had spoken so confidently.  “He is not.  Georgie… was bent too far…  He was _scared_.  They bent him…  And they _broke_ him…  They _used_ him…  But Georgie… is _not_ a Death Eater…”

There were murmurs once again before a loud voice announced, “I find the defendant… not guilty!”

 

* * *

 

George felt so incredibly out of place after stepping into the Burrow. It was just a bit past five in the afternoon, and already Molly was ushering everyone into the kitchen.  “Come on, everyone!  We’re having an early dinner and then all of us are going to turn in for the night; it’s been such a huge day and we’d all do with some rest.”

George had stayed silent as he sat at the table.  He wasn’t sure why Molly wanted them all there when it was probably going to take her quite a while to get a meal out on the table and they could just as easily wait up in their bedrooms, but he supposed it was because finally, _finally_ her family was back together again and she couldn’t _bear_ break the illusion that everything was just fine and one of her sons _hadn’t_ ran off with Death Eaters.

“George, how is your leg?” Charlie was standing by his side now, with a deeply concerned look on his face.  “I saw the way you were dragging it all day.  Is it causing you any pain?”

He shook his head, and he swung his legs over the side of the chair to pull his pants sleeve up and show the giant scarring from where several of his bones had pierced his skin.  “It doesn’t hurt; it just…”

Charlie didn’t need for his brother to finish his sentence; he could see for himself how useless that leg had become as he was dragging it so much, even Mad-Eye Moody had better function of his wooden leg.  “I’ll talk to Harry and see if he won’t loan us some money to get you physiotherapy…”

“No, Charlie, it’s okay; don’t bother Harry with –“

“- Fred!  Come help me make dinner!”

George jumped at his mother’s shout; he had become so used to having to live on edge, he was finding even _Molly’s_ completely normal shouting to almost be too much for him.  He stayed silent as he watched Fred get up and move to their mother’s side, and for reasons he couldn’t understand, it _hurt_ to hear her tell Fred how sweet he was. 

“George?” Charlie waited until his brother’s eyes were back on him.  He sent a worried look to Bill, who was watching the scene carefully, before he continued.  “Bill and I have taken a lot of leave from work, so we’re going to be here if you ever need us.  Okay?”

George nodded.  He said nothing more as conversation started filling the tiny kitchen, making him feel more claustrophobic than he already was.  Ginny, talking to Bill and Charlie about all her years at Hogwarts.  Arthur, Percy and Ron were discussing Ministry-related business.  Fred and Molly, still busy at the kitchen counters, laughing together as Fred’s eyes shone brighter than George could remember.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity…  “Fred, sweetheart, here’s yours and George’s tea.  Take them to the dining table, won’t you?”

George winced as a plate was placed in front of him.  They had rarely had the luxury to eat plenty at meals, but this…  He lifted his fork and prodded at the single sausage, egg and piece of bacon on Fred’s plate; was this… really all they could live on…?  And it was his favourite meal, too; Molly probably couldn’t _afford_ to make this for everyone, but she had done so anyway just for him…

He pushed his plate away as his face paled.  He fought against the nausea and tried to pretend he _wasn’t_ being stared at by everyone before he pulled his plate back to him so he could transfer all of the food onto Fred’s dish instead.  He knew it was extremely selfish, and a complete waste of precious food, but still…  “I’m not hungry…  Fred, you can have it.  Mum, can I go lay down for a while…?”

She was devastated.  Her eyes had welled with tears before she blinked them back and tried to put on a brave face.  She nodded as she forced a smile onto her face. “Of course, dear…  Try and get as much sleep as you can; goodness knows you need it…”

When George stood up, Fred did, too.  “Georgie…”

George sighed.  He shook his head.  “You stay here and eat your dinner, Freddie; you’re very thin…”  Thin was an understatement; _all_ his family had lost a worrisome amount of weight… 

“No…  Not hungry, too.” Fred’s smile was sincere, and as much as George knew he shouldn’t let his twin follow him as he _needed_ to eat, he instead let his shoulders slump in defeat as he nodded, too tired to even suggest bringing the food upstairs with them.

“Alright…  Ginny, you can have our dinner.  Night, guys…”

The journey back to their bedroom was a silent one, but finally, George was stepping back into a room he had once thought he was _never_ going to see again.  He let out a sigh of relief as weight left his shoulders, and immediately he made a bee-line for the bed to curl up in, not even bothering to get changed into pyjamas.  Fred did the same thing, curling up so close to his brother, he lay strewn across the other.

“I never thought I’d see this place again…” From where he lay with Fred tangled over him, George allowed his gaze to wander around his room.  It was noticeably different from the last time he had left – perhaps because…  “I thought we burnt it down…”

Fred twitched, as if such words were too painful for him to hear.  “You did…”

George said nothing back; he knew it would only hurt his brother.  He let his eyes slip closed as he drank in the warmth he had been deprived of for three years; maybe it was having been torn apart from Fred the way he had been that had made him so angry and bitter because here and now…  He felt almost _tranquil._

“I’m tired…” Fred leant across the bed to turn the lamp off, but George whimpered and grabbed his wrist. 

“Leave it on…  Please…”

Fred didn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to argue; perhaps whatever George had been through had left more scars than he would ever know?  “…”

“Thanks…” George was glad his brother didn’t question him; he didn’t think he could bear to tell the older male that when he was in darkness, all the people he had killed and tortured and _destroyed_ flashed before his eyes.  The things he had gone through and the things he had _done_ played like a theatre show.  Screams and pleas and _begs_ echoed throughout his mind, and just thinking about all this made him reach into his pocket and panic when he realised he had no more dreamless potions left.

“Georgie…?” Fred murmured tiredly.  “Was’wrong?”

“M-my dreamless potion…!” George was on the verge of hyperventilating; he was _never_ going to be able to sleep again until he could get more of those!  “F-fred, my dreamless potions are all gone and I don’t know where to get more!”

“Maybe you don’t need ‘em ‘nymore…”

“I _do,_ Fred!”

“You don’know that…” Fred tugged his brother tighter against him.  “Try sleep…  I’m tired…”

Fred was right, George knew.  It wasn’t fair of him to keep his brother awake when the other was so exhausted…  He laid back down and snuggled in as close as he could get.  “…Sorry, Freddie…  Go to sleep…”

Fred was out like a light, but it was taking George much longer to follow him.  Eventually, however, he soon fell asleep, and for the first time in four years, he didn’t have a nightmare. 

Would he still be reliant on those dreamless potions…?  He hoped not. 


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s really hot…” Fred’s lips curled into a frown as he lapped at the melted ice cream that was rolling down his hand.  “Georgie…  I’m hot…”

George couldn’t help but nod in agreement; it was indeed sweltering, and the hordes of people in Diagon Alley weren’t helping.  “Let’s finish our ice creams and go home.  It’s too hot to do anything.”

Fred nodded.  “Georgie…  Mum and dad will be home soon…  Right…?”

George felt his heart twist; Fred had been suffering abandonment issues for a long time now, all because _he’d_ ran off and left Fred behind with nothing but abuse…  He gave a sad smile.  “Of course they will be, Fred.  They’ll be back tonight; they said it’ll just be us today.  Are you finished?  Let’s go home.”

Fred gave another nod as he lapped up the last of his ice cream and then stood to dust his pants off.  They walked back to the fireplace quietly, and while Fred was content with the comfortable silence, George cocked his head to the side as a question went through his mind; should he ask…?  Did he…  Did he really want to know…?

“Hey, Freddie?” George reached out to his side to take his brother’s hand in his.  “Have you… got your memories back yet…?”

“No…  I still… don’t remember much…” Fred frowned.  Though he was doing so much better, it was still painful for George to see his twin continue to struggle.  “Only…  Only what happened after I woke up…  Do you think I’ll ever remember, Georgie…?”

“…” George’s eyes closed.  “…I…  I don’t know, Fred…  I hope so.” 

“Georgie…. When we get home…. I want to lay in the grass…” It was an avoidance tactic Fred had used even before the brain injury; when he didn’t want to talk about something, the subject was changed, and as much as George wanted to comply by his twin’s wishes to leave it be, he couldn’t.

“Freddie…  I hope one day your memories will come back; I want you to remember how much I love you.”

Fred smiled.  “I remember…  Or rather… I _feel_ how… how much you love me…  I love you, too, Georgie…  Lots an' lo’s…”

The younger twin couldn’t help it; there, in the middle of the street, he wrapped his arms around his brother and, for the first time in three years, he _grinned_.  “I _do_ love you, Freddie!  I love you so, so, _so_ much!  I’m just…  I’m sorry… for what I did to you…”

Fred shook his head.  He nuzzled his nose into his brother’s ginger hair and returned the embrace.  “I know… Georgie didn’t do it because he _wanted_ to…  He thought he _had_ to…  But you didn’t…  Maybe…  Maybe not _then_ …  But I could have understood _now_ if you had tol’ me… what was happ’ning…  Dumbledore told me… about that potion Snape had you make to make me better…  If Georgie didn’t love me, he wouldn’t ‘ave made it for me…”

It felt like three years’ worth of baggage was lifting off his shoulders, and when they finally arrived home and settled out on the soft grass at the front of the house, they lay next to each other, soaking in the other’s comfort. 

It was a contented silence, and just when George was sure he was about to fall asleep, his eyes opened again and he peered around lazily to see what had drawn a soft moan from Fred.  “Freddie…?”

Fred’s hand was in his pants as his forehead sheened with a light coating of sweat.  He licked his lips, and from where he had been staring at George since he started, his eyes shone with lust.  “Georgie…”

Suddenly, George’s pants felt too tight for comfort.  He bit his lip; after everything that had been done to him…  Could he really do this…?  “Fred…”

Fred didn’t respond; he only rolled himself closer to the younger so he could nestle in against the warm chest and breathe in George’s scent as his hand tugged at himself. 

George felt his head spinning.  He wanted so badly to reach out and replace Fred’s hand with his own, but instead he felt his stomach churn in anxiety; could he really do this…?

And then, words Fred had once told him many years ago rang through his mind, and he closed his eyes to stop his tears from falling.  In a shaking voice, he whispered, “Freddie…  You once said to me… that after someone did something really bad to me…  You wanted to take away everything he did so I could think about _you_ instead…  I know you won’t remember…  But I want to take you up on that offer…”

The older twin was confused, not understanding what George was talking about – but once the other had rolled on top of him and pressed their lips together deeply, he realised that he didn’t mind whatever he had promised once upon a time; if it involved being so close with George, he was sure he was going to enjoy every second of it.

George was glad there was no one else home with them today; he didn’t much feel like having to go back up to their bedroom because the sun was so warm and the grass soft against their skin and all he wanted was to lay here forever and let Fred have his way with him. 

“Georgie…” Fred broke the kiss when he ran out of air.  He tugged at his jeans nervously.  “Georgie…  It hurts…”

“I’ll take care of it for you,” George promised.  He allowed his hand to trail down his brother’s chest and come to rest against the zipper of the older male’s jeans.  He took a deep breath to try and will his hand to stop trembling, and once he had the confidence, he dragged the zipper down.

“Georgie…” Fred’s eyes closed, and his flushed face turned to the side as his hands waved uselessly in the air, unsure of what to do with them now.  “Mmmm…”

The jeans came off easily, much to George’s pleasure, leaving the older twin clad in only his shirt which quickly met the same fate of being tossed away to the side. 

“Freddie…” George’s eyes fixed on the hard length before him.  It was begging for his attention, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t force his hand out to wrap around it; instead, he brought their faces closer so he could draw his brother into a deep kiss. 

It was when Fred gasped into his mouth did George finally become aware that he had managed to curl his slender digits around his twin’s hard cock.  He relaxed substantially; this wasn’t so bad…  He broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together so they could stare into each other’s eyes.

Fred’s hands tugged at George’s shirt.  “Georgie…  Shirt…?”

George understood immediately, and a shudder surged through his body; he couldn’t let the other see the state of his skin if he could _help_ it…  He shook his head.  “No, I’ll… leave mine on…”

Fred frowned, and his tugging grew incessant.  “Please…?”

George knew a losing battle when he saw it, and if he were to keep protesting against his brother’s wishes, it was only going to wound everything between them more than it already was.  He closed his eyes and gave a defeated nod, but before he pulled his shirt off, he turned away; maybe if he were lucky, Fred would focus on anything _but_ his body now that he could be pleased George had obeyed.

When he turned around and Fred’s eyes widened, he knew there was no higher being out there that had listened to his pleads.  He self-consciously wrapped his arms around himself, hoping it would be enough to hide everything – but he knew it was only wishful thinking… “I never wanted you to see me like this, Freddie…”

Fred chewed at his lip as he took in the sight before him.  Bruises that still hadn’t faded, scar after scar up and down both arms and all over his sides.  Deep gashes that were still healing along his chest and stomach.  Burns everywhere Fred’s eyes could see. 

“Georgie…” Fred reached out to attempt to touch his recoiling brother.  “Who…  Who did this to Georgie…?”

Silence.  Pure, golden… _deafening_ silence.  And then George gave in.  “Me…”

Fred didn’t understand; Georgie… do all this… to _himself_ …?  “…Why…?”

“Because being away from you was more torture than anything _they_ could have done to me…” George’s eyes closed.  “…I just… was so depressed…”

No one moved.  No one _spoke_.  It was as if they were both frozen in time. 

“Georgie…” Finally, Fred moved closer.  He grabbed his brother’s shoulders and pulled the younger to him.  He heard George start to speak, but he didn’t stop to listen; he leant in and begun pressing kisses to every scar and every _blemish_ he could find. 

“Fred…” George didn’t get it; how could Fred still want him after seeing such a disgusting sight?  After learning just how weak and pathetic he really _was_ …?  “…”

Fred didn’t stop what he was doing until he had pushed George onto his back and clambered over the other.  George wasn’t talking anymore; instead, his eyes were closed as he focused on everything that was being done to his body.  Pressure was building inside his pants at being treated with so much tenderness despite the nagging thought that he didn’t _deserve_ his brother’s gentleness, and finally, to break the comfortable silence, he whispered, “I want you inside of me, Freddie…  Please…”

It was as if his body were guiding him.  Fred’s hands rid his brother of his pants so he could grab at the erection that so closely mirrored his own with only a noticeable curve whereas his own stood straight and proud.  He licked his lips, and taking hold of his own dick, he guided it to his brother’s rear.

“Wait, Freddie…” George reached to the side to grab a pair of jeans, not caring whose, and snatched the wand hidden away in them.  He mumbled a spell, and once he was pleased with the amount of lube overflowing from the wand, he passed it to the older male.  “Use that.  And…  And prepare me first…”

“Prepare…?” Fred cocked his head to the side.  He was sure that, once upon a time he had understood all of this perfectly, but here and now… 

George couldn’t help but smile.  He reached out to smother the lube on his own fingers as he said, “Watch what I do.”

Fred watched with baited breath as the younger slid a finger inside himself.  He felt the burning in his stomach roar more and more with each passing second until he was panting heavily and leaking copious amounts of pre-cum by the time the second finger entered. 

“G-georgie…” He didn’t think he was going to last much longer.  His hands shook as he fought the urge to touch himself; he knew that if he were to do so, he was going to come everywhere within seconds.  “Geor…gie…”

From where he had closed his eyes sometime earlier, George cracked one open to look at his twin.  He gave a crooked smile and panted out, “I did this to you once…  Remember…?  It felt so good for you…”

Fred oozed pre-cum rapidly as he moaned loudly.  “I’m gonna…  I’m gonna…”

George pulled his fingers out and instead reached out to take Fred’s hand.  He pulled his brother closer and whispered, “If you’re going to come, I want you to come inside me, brother…”

Fred couldn’t hold back; like a wild animal he clambered over his twin and pushed all the way in in one swift motion.  From beneath him, George’s fingers dug violently into the skin of his brother’s bare back as the younger withheld a cry of pain.  He didn’t wait for his brother to adjust; he _couldn’t;_ he needed release, and he needed it _now_. 

“Oh, god…  Oh, god…” George’s whimpered mantra wasn’t one of pain; instead, it was of pleasure he had never been able to feel before during these acts – it was something about doing this with Fred that was able to make him feel so good, and he wasn’t even sure the other had found his pleasure spot just yet.  “F-f-fred…!”

Fred’s thrusts were frantic as he desperately sought what he so greatly needed.  He gave one long, continuous whimper between ragged pants and gasps; he had never thought something could feel so good before.  Sure, there were the nights he had laid awake and touched himself to thoughts of George, but that couldn’t compare at all to what was happening now.  “G-georgie…  I…  I-I…”

George’s hands shot out so he could claw at his twin’s back in his own desperation.  With lidded eyes, he stared into lust-filled ones and whimpered, “C-come, F-freddie…  W-we’ll c-c-come t-together…”

It was those words that pushed Fred over the edge.  He had already been on the verge, but after hearing that, he let out a series of loud moans as he came deep inside his brother.  He didn’t mind the sudden hot, sticky mess clinging to his stomach and chest – and even a little bit on his chin – because all that mattered was the way their heavy breathing was in sync as they laid in the grass together, just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Freddie…” George raised his hand to touch his brother’s sweat-soaked cheek.  Their breaths continued to mingle as he tried to gather his thoughts.  “…I…”

Fred shook his head; he didn’t need to hear anything right now.  He moved closer so he could nuzzle his cheek to George’s as he allowed his full weight to rest on top of George.  His eyes closed, and as much as George wanted to let him lay there and sleep, he knew they couldn’t; if they were to sleep for too long, they would run the possibility of their family coming home and finding them.

“Freddie…  Let’s go take a nap in our bed…”

Fred gave a small whimper of disappointment at having to leave the other’s soothing warmth so soon, but still he obeyed.  He slowly stood up and went to fetch their clothing from where they had been abandoned earlier.

George stood up on shaky legs.  He moved over to where Fred was and stood by the older male as Fred tried to put one leg into his pants, but before he could get very far into dressing, the older twin gave a whimper and tumbled to the ground.  George, who had tried to catch him, fell on top of his brother, but the only thing that ensued was their surroundings echoing with haughty laughter as they cuddled tightly.

Fred’s fingers brushed away sweaty hair from George’s eyes.  “Georgie…?”

“Hmm…?” George’s face nuzzled into the crook between Fred’s neck and shoulder. 

“Were we… in love before…?”

The younger gave a chuckle.  “No.  We weren’t.  But, _gods,_ Freddie, we loved each other.  I don’t think that I’m gay, and neither do you.  We’ve never had interest in girls before, but we didn’t care for any other guys, either.  It was… just us.  We looked at each other and _only_ each other.  We just… _were_ , Freddie.”

A shy smile crossed Fred’s face now.  “Georgie…  I think I’m in love with you…”

George’s eyes crinkled from how bright his smile was.  Though he couldn’t say the same, he could completely understand; if Fred hadn’t had the head injuries he did, he probably would have continued feeling the same way he always had.  But now, as Fred was relearning the world and everything in it, it was normal for his feelings to evolve in such ways. 

“That’s okay, Freddie, because I’m always going to be here with you,” George promised.  “I’m not going anywhere anymore.  I’m here to stay, and I’m going to make up for all the years I was gone.”

Fred smiled.  “I love you, Georgie…”

“I love you, too, Freddie.”

With that, the two finished getting dressed and walked hand-in-hand back to the house and up to their bedroom, ready to sleep the rest of the day away.  


	15. Chapter 15

When George came downstairs for breakfast, he froze in the doorway at the head of raven black hair that wasn’t supposed to be there.  He knew that it was only Harry visiting, but for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, it unsettled him to know that there was someone here who didn’t belong.

“Oh, George!” Molly, who had taken notice of the younger twin at last, smiled brightly as she gestured to the younger male she had long ago accepted into her family.  “Look who’s here for breakfast!”

George’s hands clenched, and the anger he suddenly felt must have crossed his face because Molly’s smile dropped in a split second and instead was replaced by a look of worry. 

“George, honey…?” Molly spoke carefully now, and George could pick out the wariness in her tone.  “Are you feeling okay…?”

The growl was so quiet, Molly almost hadn’t even realised her son had responded at all.  “Shut up…”

Molly bit her lip.  She looked to the head of the table where Arthur was holding his cutlery so tight, his knuckles were turning white.  “Arthur…”

“You know better than to speak to your mother like that, George…” It was weird having to be careful around their own son; Arthur could recall times they’d been so mad at the twins, they’d broken wooden spoons around their backsides and screamed themselves hoarse at the boys, but now…  Well, to be frank, they were almost too _scared_ to so much as raise their voices at George now.  “Say sorry to her and sit down; we’re eating brea –“

 _“I hate you!”_ George’s scream had been so unexpected, he himself jumped at his own voice.  His body begun trembling with restrained rage, and then, as if he were an outsider looking in at the scene, he saw himself throw a punch so hard into the wooden beam next to him, not only did it split with ease, blood dripped down to the hardwood floor beneath him from where wood splinters had dug deep into his broken fist. 

“George!” It wasn’t a shout of anger or disappointment or _anything_ that George would have preferred to hear from his mother right now; it was one of terror, whether for him or their own safety, he didn’t know.  “George, no!”

He would look back on this moment and wonder if things would have played out the way they did right now if it weren’t for Molly running at him, but in the here and now, he panicked at her intimidating form coming at him from the corner of his eye, and purely out of instinct he whipped his wand out of his pocket and started screaming that curse he had used more times than he would ever realise.

“Avada Ke-“

Someone had disarmed him faster than he could blink – Harry, he thought, but wasn’t sure – and then, a large body was on his, dragging him down to the ground and wrestling his wand away from him.  It was Ron, he realised, with his father rushing at them to help restrain him, but even knowing no one in his family ever wanted to hurt him wasn’t enough to stop his panic from only growing.

“No!  No!  No!” It was a horrible thing to witness; George thrashing and writhing to escape his own family’s hold with wide, fearful eyes that were rapidly expelling tears, but it was testimony to the fact that, as hard as they were all trying, there was still so much damage in George’s mind that hadn’t been unravelled yet.  “Get away from me!  Get _away_!  Stop it!  _Stop it!”_

Someone must have casted some sort of relaxing charm or something, because suddenly, he just didn’t have the energy to keep thrashing around, and he fell limp onto the floor with silent tears rolling down his cheeks.  He reached out a heavy arm to push Arthur away from him when the man tried to reach out to pull him into his arms, and where he lay, he curled into a tight ball as he cried. 

“Someone go find Fred and check on him!” The panic was still there in Molly’s voice, and it only made George feel worse; did they really think he could ever do something to his twin…? 

And then he remembered… _everything_ that had happened after he had run off with Death Eaters.  Maybe they _should_ be worried…

“George…?” It was Harry’s voice next to him now.  “George, what happened…?”

He didn’t respond; how could he?  How could he admit out loud that he was just…  He just so fucking _angry_ all the time…?  “…”

“Can I speak to him alone?”

“Be careful, honey…”

No one spoke for several seconds, until…  “George…?”

He cracked his eyelids open now to see that Harry was the only person in the room with him.  He shuddered; where had everyone gone…?  What were they going to do to him…? “…”

There was a deep frown on Harry’s face as he regarded his friend.  When he spoke, his voice was soft.  “Are you… finding those therapy sessions to be of any help…?”

George shook his head.  Truthfully, they only seemed to upset him more as he recalled every fucked up thing he had done.  “No…  I can’t…  I can’t… _tell_ him about it…”

“You’re not comfortable?” Harry’s frown only grew; just how far gone _was_ George? 

“I don’t feel like he _cares_ …” George wiped at his eyes.  “I don’t trust him…”

“You trust _me,_ don’t you?  What about if you talk to _me_ about it?  O-or, I would come with you to your sessions – or your parents or one of your brothers, or…  Someone you trust…”

“I don’t want them to know… just how fucked up I’ve become…  Harry…  I just want to _die_ …”

 

* * *

 

“Not _now,_ Fred…!  Leave me alone, will ya?”

Fred stopped tugging at his brother’s shirt at the sultry tone the younger used with him.  He cocked his head to the side; Molly had told him George wasn’t feeling good and was very sad, but still…  He was only trying to cheer his brother up!  “Georgie…  I’m _bored_ …  I don’t want to lay in bed all day…  Mum said afternoon snacks are almost ready…”

“Then go and eat, Fred.  I don’t feel like getting out of bed today.  Go and do something _you_ want to do.”

George, who had been curled up on his side staring at the wall, stiffened when he felt the mattress behind his back dip with added weight, and thin arms wrap around him tight to pull him against a chest he knew so well.  He relaxed slowly; he didn’t need to fear his brother’s embrace…  “…”

Fred’s nose nuzzled the back of the younger’s head.  “Georgie is always so sad…  Does he want to talk about it…?”

“No.  I _never_ want to talk about it.”

Fred tried again.  “Is it… about when you ran away…?”

“Fred, I said I _don’t_ want to talk about it!” George pulled away from his brother and set to scratching so hard at his wrist, tiny droplets of blood peeked out onto the surface.  “Least of all with _you_.  Leave me alone!”

Fred looked to his lap.  He bit at his lip for several seconds before he lifted his head again and made eye contact.  “Georgie… is really hurting…  But…  It’ll only hurt more… if you don’t talk about it…”

George opened his mouth to shout a response, but he thought better of it when someone knocked at their door and waited for a reply before opening it.  He growled to himself before he forced out a calm, “What is it…?”

“It’s Harry…  Can I come in?”

“Sure.” George wanted to be left alone, but he knew he wasn’t going to get that; Fred had been at him all day to get out of bed and do something with him, and now Harry, too…

Once Harry, and Ginny who had come with him, were standing in the middle of the small bedroom, he looked around awkwardly before he said, “Ginny and I were going to go into London.  Your mum asked if we could take you two as well to get you both out of the house.”

Fred jumped at the offer to finally leave his bedroom.  “Yes!  I want to go!  Georgie, let’s get ready!”

George groaned loudly; he _loved_ his brother – he really did! – but couldn’t Fred just leave him be for today?  “ _You_ get ready; I’m staying here.”

“Georgie…” Fred went back to tugging at his twin’s clothing.  “I want to go with _you_ …”

“Fucking _fine!_ ” George kicked his blankets away angrily and almost _threw_ himself out of the bed.  He stomped over to the wardrobe and grabbed out the first set of clothing he could find, not caring if they were his or Fred’s, and spat, “I’m going to get _dressed_ , you fucking clingy, annoying, _stupid_ –“

It was Ginny’s fist coming out of nowhere connecting heavily with his cheekbone that shut George up.  Her eyes were wide with anger, and her arm pulled back for another swing as she yelled, “Don’t talk to him like that!  He’s your _brother,_ and he _loves_ you!  He only wants to be with you, but I don’t know _why_ when lately you’ve just treated him like shit!  Look!  He’s _crying_ because of you!”

George felt his stomach drop when he looked back at Fred and saw the other was hugging his favourite pillow tightly as he sobbed into it.  He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but he couldn’t; Fred was crying…  Because of him… _Again…_

“Freddie…?” George moved slowly over to the other so he could wrap his arm around Fred’s shoulders.  He tried to think about what he could say, but all he managed was to utter a tiny, “Sorry…”

Just as George had done minutes previous, Fred pulled away from his twin’s touch.  He got off the bed and moved to his sister, thankful that her arms quickly wrapped around his middle and held him tight. 

“Go and get dressed, George…” Harry was quiet, disapproving, but he knew better than to get involved in the family’s business – besides, Ginny had done well enough handling it on her own.  “We’ll wait for you.”

George said nothing; he left the room in silence with his clothing so he could dress in the bathroom, but as soon as he closed the bedroom door behind him, he stopped at hearing Harry’s soft murmuring.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you, Fred,” Harry promised.  George pressed his ear up against the door so he could listen better.  “He’s just…  He’s _depressed_.  _Very_ depressed.  It isn’t his fault, and it isn’t yours either, don’t blame yourself.”

“He just…” Fred sniffed back tears now.  “…He…  He’s always so angry at me…”

“He isn’t _angry_ angry, Fred,” the raven-haired male tried to explain.  “It’s anxiety.  _Bad_ anxiety.  He’s on edge all the time.  Scared.  Worried.  Things that would never make him nervous before are setting him off now.  You slept in late this morning, so you missed it.  But he had a meltdown because I was here.  It isn’t _you;_ he just doesn’t know how to control his stress and keeps lashing out because of it.  You’re doing the right thing, trying to help him, Fred.  Just…”

George’s heart stopped; just…?  Just what…?  Did Harry think he wasn’t worth trying to help?  Or that Fred was only wasting his time and George was beyond help?  Or…

“Just, George isn’t… _well,_ Fred.  It’s _not_ his fault, but he needs a lot more help than any of us can give him, and you need to start recognising when to leave him alone – when he’s had enough and just wants to be on his own.  He doesn’t _want_ to hurt anyone, but… sometimes he just can’t help it, and I’m worried he might…  Might _hurt_ you, Fred.”

George didn’t stick around to hear what his brother had to reply with; he hurried into the bathroom so he could get dressed and just get this over and done with; the sooner he could get back home, the faster he could go back to bed and lay there for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

The only thing that made the slow journey to London even _slightly_ tolerable was the fact that Fred had quickly gotten over his upset and was clinging tightly to George, as if the younger was the only thing in this world he had.  Under normal circumstances, George wouldn’t have minded at all and even returned the clinginess, but today, all he wanted was to be alone.

“Georgie!” George was really starting to get tired of his brother pointing out perfectly normal Muggle things and getting excited over them…  “Georgie, look!  What’s that?!”

He doesn’t remember any of these things, George had to remind himself with a deep breath before he forced out in an even tone, “Harry knows.  Why don’t you ask him?”

Fred did as suggested, giving George a few moments of peace.  They were on their way to the underground station to catch a train into London, and George was sure that if the rapidly thickening crowds they were approaching meant anything, they were just about there.

He was right, and the twin quickly found out he could do without ever catching another train in his life; it had been far too crowded for his comfort, and if he didn’t have Fred there to hold tightly and rest his chin on the other’s shoulder, he wasn’t sure how he would have coped. 

It was when they got to London did his stress levels _really_ peak; too many people, too much noise, and just…  Just…  Argh!  If he’d ever had the chance to take his Apparition lessons back at Hogwarts, he’d have Disapparated on the spot and gone home. 

“Guys, I’d let you two do what you want on your own, but I’m worried I’ll lose you…” Harry seemed sincere enough, but George didn’t believe his friend; the other was worried George would only cause chaos if left alone…  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to find you since neither of you have phones or know how to use them, so you don’t mind sticking with us, do you?”

George _did_ mind.  He minded _a lot_.  But when he looked at Fred and saw how happy his brother looked, he found he couldn’t shake his head and argue with Harry.  He instead gave a resigned sigh and nodded.  He followed them all around for what felt like hours, in and out of shops he didn’t care in the least for, until finally, he could relax for a while at a small restaurant. 

Nothing on the menu was familiar to him, so after consulting Harry about his choices, he settled on a pizza for him and his brother to share.  He turned to look at Fred seated next to him in the booth seat, just to make sure the other hadn’t vanished in the five minutes they’d been here, and to his relief, Fred was happily staring at something up in the corner of the wall, with moving pictures in the small rectangular object. 

“What’s that, Harry?” George pointed to the object.  “I’ve never seen one of those before.”

Harry turned to see what his friend was pointing to.  “It’s a TV.”

“Fred likes it.” It warmed Ginny’s heart to see her damaged brother looking so content with something that _wasn’t_ George for once, and if she was ever able to scrape together the money, she would buy one for Fred just so he could have something to keep him entertained whenever George was in his bad states.  “I wish we could get one for him.”

Harry offered the girl a warm smile, only adding further to the suspicions that had been plaguing George since that morning; why were Harry and Ginny acting so close, anyway?  Had he missed some sort of important development?  …Was it something they had tried to _hide_ from him? 

He shook his head; he really didn’t have the energy for any further arguments tonight…  “What’s he watching, anyway…?”

“The news.  He’s happy; let’s let him be until our food is brought out.”

George nodded.  He occupied himself with staring around the restaurant at the other patrons and taking note of their conversations, and though he remembered once upon a time being the life of most dinner conversations, now, all he could do was sit here and scowl miserably while Fred remained fixed on the TV and Ginny and Harry held their own conversation together.

He was miserable.  Utterly, completely depressed.  If an escaped Death Eater were to break in and start throwing killing curses everywhere, he’d _run_ into the spell just to end it all.  Fred deserved better than _him;_ with him dead and out of the way, his brother could go on to have anyone he wanted – someone who would treat him right and give him all the emotional and physical and _mental_ love he deserved instead of George who seemed to be making it a habit to bring his twin to tears lately.

But then, the more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t need a Death Eater to finish him off – hell, he didn’t need his own _wand;_ his father kept plenty of rope out in the shed, and all he needed to do was secure it around one of the chimneys on the Burrow and _jump_ and it’d all be over and done with.  Fred would be _safe_ without him around, and his family…  Well, they could _all_ finally get on with their lives without having to live in fear of _him_. 

It was for the best, and really he was only thinking of their best interests – it just so happened to be that their best interests coincided with what he so desperately wanted.

 

* * *

 

Weeks had passed, and George wasn’t feeling any better; he only seemed to find himself becoming more and more depressed.  Testimony to that was the fact that he was laying wide awake in bed, staring up at the roof well past midnight.  He had been asleep for maybe an hour or two before he had snapped awake instantly, just as he had been doing for a month without fail, and he tried to fight against the nausea quickly overwhelming him from his severely broken sleep. 

It was now or never, he knew.  Tonight was a perfect chance; Fred was fast asleep, comforted greatly by the light of his new TV set Harry had given him that morning, and didn’t seem ready to awake tonight at the slightest hint of his twin leaving him. 

His feet touched down on the floor.  He looked over his shoulder at Fred again, glad to see the other hadn’t moved in the slightest.  He tiptoed to the door before he made his way through the darkened house and outside where the shed lay in wait for his entry. 

The night was cold, and it was even colder inside the shed.  He shuddered and tugged his nightshirt tighter around his body rapidly losing weight from lack of eating, but he put up with it; if he could just go through with this, he’d never have to feel cold again…

The rope, while not exactly easy to find, hadn’t taken a long time to gather.  He left the shed quickly and hurried back into the house; Ron’s room would be perfect to do this in as there was a balcony with railings that was high enough up for his neck to snap with ease and the room’s owner was currently away for the night. 

“George…?”

George froze.  A light flickered from somewhere in the living room he had been walking through, and Arthur appeared on the couch with an exhausted expression on his face, almost as if the man had been expecting this exact scenario and had taken to camping out on the couch just to make sure it never happened.  “…”

Arthur’s eyes were saddened, and his voice was even sadder.  “…You really _are_ so terribly depressed…”

George stared at his feet.  He shifted uncomfortably, but when his father gestured for him to come closer, he did so.  He eventually sat on the couch next to Arthur, unmoving as strong arms wrapped around him and held him close.  “…”

“Your mother and I spoke to some nurses at St. Mungo’s…” Arthur’s fingers threaded through his son’s hair slowly.  “They were reluctant at first…  They wanted to talk to you…  But they could see how desperate we are…  And how we’re at our wits ends…”

“…”

“They gave us antidepressants to give to you – to…  To at least _try_ …” Arthur wiped a stray tear from his eye.  “…We finally got the money together this morning for them…  Will you please give them a chance…?”

George shook his head.  He allowed the rope he was still holding to be gently tugged from his grasp as he whispered, “I don’t want medication; I just want to die…”

“George…  I have _no_ doubts that’s what you really want…  I can…  I can believe that; I really can…  You were put through so much…” Arthur’s arm tightened around his son’s shoulders.  “But please, George…  You have a family who _loves_ you.  Charlie and Bill write to us all the time to check up on you.  Both of them have offered to move you in with them to try and look after you.  Their hearts would be absolutely _shattered_ if you did this.”

“They’ll get over it eventually…  They’ll still have Fred; he’s the better version of me anyway…”

“Fred _isn’t_ you, George,” Arthur promised in a strong tone.  “You are _both_ your own person, and while we love Fred deeply, we still love _you,_ too.”

“It’s better if I kill myself,” George started to explain.  “I won’t…  I won’t be around to scare you guys, or make you sad or angry with me.  You can all move on with your lives!  Without me around to constantly bring you all down!  It’s for the better, dad!  Really!”

“None of _us_ think so,” Arthur promised.  “We _love_ you.  _So_ much more than you’re ever going to realise.”

“Bullshit!  Even _Fred_ hasn’t noticed I’m not in bed with him!” George couldn’t help but begin to raise his voice now. 

“George.” Suddenly, Arthur’s tone was serious, more so than the younger had heard it be in a long time.  “Fred _was_ awake, looking for you.  While you were out in the shed looking for… _this_ …  He was wandering the house calling out for you in panic.  He thought you’d left him again.  He came running down those stairs looking for you which is how I woke up since I didn’t hear you coming through the first time.  I got him back into bed and promised him you’ll be back with him soon – and if you aren’t, you _know_ he’s going to be back downstairs searching until he finds you.  It’s not only that, George.  If I didn’t love you, how could I have _ever_ figured that if you were going to do something to yourself, it’s the shed you’d search through first.  I’ve been sleeping here since the night you came _home_ again because I _knew,_ with everything you’ve been put through, one day you’re going to want to end the pain, George.  So don’t you _ever_ think we don’t love your or care about you.”

“…”

Arthur’s tone softened again now.  “I think you should go back to bed now, George; Fred is only going to keep fretting for you, and he really needs his rest.  So do you.  We’ll talk more in the morning about taking your new medication.”

George nodded.  He stood up and left the living room to go back to bed.  His father’s words played through his mind.  Maybe Arthur was right; _he_ wasn’t worth his family losing sleep and comfort over, but here they were…  Sleeping on an uncomfortable couch every night and running around the house looking for him when rest is the better option…

As he laid back down in his bed and felt his brother wrap tightly around him so he couldn’t escape again, his eyes remained open for the rest of the night; why did his family think he was someone worth losing sleep over?  Stressing over?  Saving up money to buy him medication when they knew he would never agree to take it on his own? 

Why were they treating him like he was someone _worth_ loving?  Didn’t they know all of the horrible things he had done in those three years he had left?  Maybe they _did_ know, but they were willing to look past everything for some reason…  No, scratch that; they _did_ know; at his trial, a long list that consisted of only a _quarter_ of his crimes (that they knew about) had been read out loud in front of them all; they knew _very_ well what a monster he was.

…So why were they still so insistent on loving him…?  This was hurting his head too much. 


	16. Chapter 16

“Georgie, I don’t want you to take them…”

George looked up from where he had been fumbling with the blister packet of the antidepressants his parents had eventually coaxed him into at least _trying_ several weeks previous.  He cocked his head to the side; Fred had been most of the reason he had agreed to take them in the first place, so why was his brother suddenly against it…?  “Why not?”

A pout crossed Fred’s face as he spread himself out along the bed comfortably.  His eyes fixed on his brother’s form, standing at the desk on the other side of the room.  “Because they make you sleep too much!”

“That’s… kind of the point, Fred; they’re the only things that _keep_ me asleep.” George didn’t understand; what was wrong with Fred? 

Fred shook his head.  “Nooooo, you don’t get it…  When you take those…  You just fall asleep…  And I can’t wake you up again…  I don’t want you to fall asleep just yet…”

Finally, George understood; Fred only wanted to spend more time with his brother before the medication would knock him out for the night within the hour.  “Oh…  I can take these later if you really want me to, Freddie…”

The older male gave a bright smile as he nodded.  He extended his arm to reach out to his twin.  “I want… to make love…”

George gave a soft smile in return.  He nodded, throwing the blister packet back down onto the desk before he returned to the bed.  It wasn’t late; maybe a little after eight-thirty, and their parents were home with them – though, he suspected, they were probably both preoccupied “George-proofing” the house in case he decided to try and kill himself again. 

Once he had clambered onto the bed, Fred grabbed his hips and pulled him closer in a rough manner.  The older male sunk his teeth deeply into his brother’s neck, and George gave a yelp; where the hell had he learnt that?

“Fred!” George pushed at his brother’s chest to try and get him away, and though Fred hesitated to put distance between them, he finally obeyed.  George slapped his hand to his neck and winced when he felt warm droplets of blood on his skin.  “Fred, don’t bite me like that!  That hurts!”

Fred frowned.  He sat back on his heels and mumbled apologetically, “But that’s what they did on the TV…”

George understood it now.  For the first time in Fred’s life, he had found interest in pornography – he just no longer had the mental capacity to understand what he had been indulging in properly…  “Fred…  Whatever you’ve been watching _isn’t_ a very good role model to try and imitate in real life…  Please, don’t bite me like that again; that really hurt…  I’m bleeding…”

The older male moved closer once again so he could lap his tongue against the bloody droplets.  He then pulled away and, with a frown, asked, “But I want to bite you, Georgie…  I can…  Can’t I…?”

George couldn’t say the idea of being bitten sounded very appealing to him, but he wasn’t _completely_ against it – as long as his brother wasn’t taking chunks out of his skin, he didn’t _really_ mind.  “If you’re _gentle_ about biting me, Fred.”

“Gentle…?”

George nodded.  “ _Gentle_.”

Fred licked his lips.  He leant forward slowly until his hot breath billowed against the younger’s skin.  His pyjama pants felt too tight for him once again, and the uncomfortable feeling only increased once he opened his mouth and ever so slowly closed his teeth onto the other side of George’s neck.  He never removed his mouth as he crawled on top of his twin and pushed George fully onto the mattress with his bodyweight; he only sucked against the warm skin as he positioned his hips to rub against his brother’s every time one of them squirmed in pleasure.

George closed his eyes; it felt rather nice to have his brother paying such careful attention to his neck for the first time.  “Freddie… You can bite a little harder…  Okay…? Keep going until I tell you to stop…”

The stronger twin allowed his jaw to slowly clamp down.  He gave a pleasured whimper as he did so; he’d known as soon as he’d seen on it done on the TV that he was going to enjoy biting his twin. 

The younger settled on a firm, yet not overly hard bite to his neck before he gave a tiny sigh and mumbled, “That’s good, Freddie…  Just like that…”

Now that he knew how hard he was allowed to bite, Fred’s jaw travelled all over his brother’s neck and face to nibble at.  His hands travelled down the other’s body as he did so until one of them had slipped beneath George’s nightshirt and his fingertips fondled soft nipples that quickly hardened beneath his inexperienced touch.

It was a sensation George had never thought could exist.  Their parents, while loving, hadn’t exactly taught them about the pleasures of the flesh, and Hogwarts had never run a class on it either.  They had both learnt through listening to schoolmates talk about it, but never had they learnt that nipple touching could be pleasurable, too.  “Oh…  Freddie…  That feels nice…”

With his hand that wasn’t currently occupied with nipples, Fred slid his twin’s sweatpants from his body so he could run the tip of his finger against the warm sac hidden away between George’s legs.  He pulled away from the younger’s neck so he could kiss his way down George’s chest, his stomach, and all the way to his hardened cock. 

“Freddie…” George gulped; part of him felt terrible at the idea of his twin giving him oral – it should be _him_ in such a submissive, humiliating position…  After all, he was just some dirty slut whereas Fred was so clean…  So _pure_ …  “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I _want_ to…” With that said, Fred’s tongue poked out from between his lips and he made the first lick, from along the base and all the way to the tip smeared with a single droplet of pre-cum. 

George’s eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips.  His body bucked upwards of its own accord, and he was sure he could see stars.  “F-fred…”

Fred was no expert, yet he had consumed enough of the scenes from TV to have picked up on how to drag his tongue around the tip for a few seconds before dipping it into the slit.  One hand went to caress his brother’s balls while the other massaged the tiny opening that puckered in response to the stimulation. 

His tongue lapped at the cock in front of him eagerly, as if it were an ice cream he had been looking forward to eating for some time now.  He dragged his tongue torturously slow back to the tip before he opened his mouth wide and engulfed the head.

“A-ah!” George grabbed at the bedsheets beneath him so tightly, they were in danger of tearing.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he called out for his brother; it didn’t matter that Fred couldn’t take any more of him in without choking; this was already more than he deserved.  “F-fred…!  O-oh…  Oh, F-fred…!”

The older twin pulled one hand away from George’s ass and instead used it to wrap around the base of his cock and slowly stroke upwards to pump what he couldn’t fit into his mouth.  He moaned as his own neglected dick begged for attention, but that could wait; he was sure that giving George all his attention instead was the best choice for them both. 

Up and down his hand stroked as he bobbed his head slowly.  He wished with all his being that he could swallow more of George, but every time he tried to take all of him in, George would hit the back of his throat and he’d choke and sputter – how did he do it like the people on the TV?  Maybe he just needed lots of practise…

“Oh, fuck…” George’s hands shot out now, trying to find soft red hair to push Fred away while his eyes remained closed from the onslaught of pleasure.  “F-freddie…  I-I’m gonna…  I-I’m gonna come if you don’t s-stop…”

Fred pulled away now.  He dropped his hand into his lap to caress himself as he drank in the sight before him; George, all flushed and tussled, lay on his back with his shirt ridden so high up, he could see both nipples standing erect and awaiting attention. 

“Georgie…” Fred reached out to stroke his thumb lovingly against his brother’s cheek.  A slight blush crossed his pale cheeks as he looked to his lap and fidgeted.  “…I…”

George smiled.  As hot and bothered as he was, he said softly, “What is it, Fred…?”

Fred licked his lips before he looked back up.  He gave a shy smile back before he whispered, “…I…  C-can you…  Lick me…?  T- _there_ …”

George didn’t understand; did his brother just want the favour returned?  Well, he could easily do that.  He leant forward, ready to take the other’s weeping dick into his mouth, but he stopped when Fred grabbed both his cheeks and held him there.

“N-no…” Fred glanced down at his lap before he looked up again.  He shifted slightly so he was leaning more on his tailbone, and removing one hand from his brother’s cheek, he circled his finger around his entrance.  “…Here…  Lick me here…?”

George gave a deep frown.  He shook his head.  “Fred, I…  I want to make you feel good, but I…”

“Please…?” Fred shifted again so George could see his hole easier.  “…Please…?  I…  I want to know… what it feels like…”

The younger sighed.  “I think you’ve watched _too much_ porn, Freddie…  Lay on your back for me…”

Fred scrambled to do as instructed.  He bent his knees and spread his legs wide to give the younger room, and to his glee, the other crawled forward and his hot breath could be felt against his entrance.  He gave a strange shudder of anticipation; it felt good to finger himself, but he was sure this would feel even better. 

George hesitated to poke his tongue out of his mouth.  He had no desire to put it anywhere _near_ here, but if Fred so badly wanted to know what it felt like… 

Well, one time wouldn’t hurt _too_ much… 

“Georgie…  Quick…” Fred moaned impatiently.  His hand wrapped around his cock, but he didn’t stroke yet; he wanted to feel his brother’s tongue in his ass first. 

The small, tentative lick that flickered against his hole and pushed in ever so slightly sent a wild jolt of shivering down Fred’s spine.  His toes curled as his back arched against the mattress, and already a series of pants escaped his lips; it wasn’t that this was physically pleasurable for him, but rather than the images running rampart in his mind right now were enough for him to almost come on the spot.  “G-georgie…  M-more…”

It was when the tongue pushed in past his tight ring of muscles did Fred let out a loud cry as his back arched even further.  “Ah!  A-ah, Georgie!  G-g-georgie!”

The younger wriggled his tongue in all directions before he started pulling it out and pushing it back in as quickly as he could.  It drove Fred so wild, precum dribbled in rivers down his dick, and George knew if he didn’t stop now, he was going to make his brother come already. 

“Oh, Georgie…” Fred’s whimpers were desperate as he stared at his twin with a flushed, sweaty face.  He reached out to dig his nails into George’s forearms and whimper, “I-I need you inside of me…  P-please…”

Again, George shook his head.  He said carefully, “I’m sorry, Freddie…  I _can’t_ enter you…  I don’t…  I don’t want to hurt you, and I _know_ I will if I go inside you…  So please, enter _me_ instead…”

Fred gasped wildly, and it then became apparent to George that the other was fighting against his orgasm.  “N-no time…!”

George’s hand was snatched away from Fred’s thigh and dumped roughly at the older male’s puckered hole.  Words didn’t need to be spoken; he knew exactly what Fred wanted from him.  He spat into his hand so he could slick his fingers as quickly as he could and slide the first one inside.

“G-g-georgie…” Fred’s pants grew harsher as his body started to writhe in desperation to hold back his climax.  “Geor…gie…  Plea…se…”

George pushed the second finger in much sooner than he would have liked, and now that Fred could feel as if he had been all filled up, his fingers searched desperately for the bundle of nerves he knew he needed to find, _fast_. 

It took only seconds to brush against them as Fred let out a loud whimper and forced his hips down onto his brother’s fingers.  With that, the younger hooked his digits and started caressing as Fred rocked his hips so desperately onto his hand, he may as well have been fucking it. 

It was with a loud cry did Fred finally explode so hard, his semen smeared all over his face and through his hair.  George gave a quiet groan at the sight as his own cocked throbbed horribly; what now?  Did he get himself off while Fred rested…?

And then, before he could even make a decision, Fred tackled him onto the mattress and grabbed both his hands to hold above their heads.  He rubbed their hips together, and George was surprised that his twin had gotten hard once more in what couldn’t have been more than five minutes. 

“Georgie…” Fred growled into his ear, a low, seductive purr that George knew had never existed until now.  Somehow, the knowledge turned him on even more.  “Georgie, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, your tight little hole bruises…”

George moaned again; his brother had _never_ been one for dirty talk until now, but he didn’t mind – in fact, he _liked_ it.  “Take me, Freddie…  Fuck me as hard as you want…  Fuck me until I can’t walk…  Come inside of me and let me feel your hot cum burn my insides torn from your roughness…”

Fred let out another growl as he drove his face to George’s neck once again and completely disregarded the force of biting they had previously agreed on.  His teeth pierced through sweaty skin again, but this time, instead of hurting George, the pain only made his cock throb more. 

The older male didn’t want for any sort of permission as he lined his hips up with George’s entrance and forced himself inside in one swift motion.  George let out a pained cry, but he didn’t protest, not even when he felt his own blood dribbling onto the white sheets beneath him.  Drool pooled in his mouth and saliva dripped down his chin as his wide eyes stared up at the roof, his mind unable to process anything other than the way Fred’s hips snapped back and forth with a feral desperation George had never known Fred to possess before.

“F-f-f-fred…!” George’s hands shot out to claw at his brother’s back, his nails leaving blood and torn skin in their wake, but it only seemed to spur Fred on more as his thrusting became more and more erratic.  “Oh, o-oh, oh…!  F-fred…!  F-fuck…  Oh, _god…!_ ”

Fred growled something incoherent into his brother’s ear that George couldn’t quite catch because of the headboard of the bed banging so loudly and rapidly against the wall from the force of his thrusts.  He moaned loudly before he growled again, this time in a clearer tone.  “Do you like it, G-georgie…?  M-my little… slut…  _My_ slut…”

“Oh, Freddie…!  Yes…” George felt himself only ever climbing closer to his release that would spring forth any moment now.  “I-I’m…  I’m your slut, Freddie…  W-whatever y-you want me t-to be…  I’m your slut…  Please, fill me up, F-freddie…  I’m so close…”

And then, at those words, Fred’s hips stilled completely and a long, loud moan filled the air as hot liquid filled George up, just as he had wanted.  George came, too, in long, hard spurts, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were that of them trying to calm their erratic breathing. 

It was when a tender hand brushed sweaty bangs from George’s eyes did George realise what a complete one-eighty his brother’s personality took when they were like this, but he didn’t think too much on it; it was probably nothing more than over-consumption of porn and carnal instinct taking over where Fred had lost the capacity to actually _understand_ his body and what he _liked_. 

He gave a soft laugh, and returning the gesture, he caressed Fred’s cheek as he whispered, “I should let you watch porn more often, Freddie…”

Fred didn’t reply; he only snuggled his face in to the crook of George’s neck and shoulder before he gave a content purr and fell asleep.  George smiled softly as he played with his brother’s hair.  Sleep would probably evade him anyway, but he wasn’t going to move from his brother’s warmth for _anything_. 


	17. Chapter 17

In the six months that had passed by, George found his antidepressants were helping him.  They weren’t taking away the emptiness inside of him, or the lack of enjoyment in life, but they were helping his anxiety and his explosive temper had calmed somewhat.  The only problem was, George found that he was much more susceptible to things hurting him emotionally.

Like now, as he pushed his brother off of him halfway through sex so he could turn his head to the side and weep into his pillow. 

“Georgie…?” Fred, stilled his hips so he could frown down at his brother; this had been happening so much lately, he was starting to get anxiety about trying to make love to his twin.  “Georgie…  Why are you… always so upset now…?”

George pushed his twin off of him so he could grab their blankets and curl up beneath his warm comforter.  He wiped at his eyes; he knew it was so cruel of him to not talk to Fred about what was wrong and instead only continue to worry the other, so he took a deep breath and whispered, “I’m scared…”

“Am I hurting you…?” Fred felt his own panic rise as he scrambled to pull George into his arms and hug him tight.  “Do you not… not want to make love with me anymore…?”

“It’s not that…” George choked on a sob as he tried desperately to convey everything that was bothering him.  “It’s…  F-fred…  I don’t…  I don’t want to make love with you anymore…  I just want you to _fuck_ me…”

Fred frowned.  “Why…?  I like making love to you…”

“I don’t deserve that…  I deserve to be fucked and treated like the whore I am…” George’s tears came harder.  “I want you to hurt me and abuse me because that’s the only thing I deserve…  I don’t deserve you being so gentle and loving to me…  I only want you to give to me what I deserve…”

For the longest time, Fred remained silent.  He stared at George, and his face remained so expressionless, the younger truly didn’t have any idea of what Fred was thinking about. 

And then, finally, Fred moved.  He wrapped his arms around his twin and held George close as he whispered, “Georgie _does_ deserve to be loved; that’s why I make love to him now…”

George flinched at those words.  He shook his head.  “No, Freddie…  I don’t deserve _any_ of that…  I don’t even deserve _you_ …  Please…  Just…  Just hit me or something…  Choke me…  Tell me what a slut I am…”

Fred shook his head.  He nuzzled his cheek against George’s damp one.  “Georgie _isn’t_ a slut.  I’m sorry I ever called him one…  I didn’t… _know_ …  On the TV they always did what I used to… But now I know Georgie deserves to have love made to him…  And not fucked…”

George’s tears came harder now.  “Freddie…  If you knew…  If you knew what _happened_ to me, you’d know I’m just a stupid, disgusting slut and I don’t deserve gentleness…”

The older male cocked his head to the side.  He sat up, and for the first time since his brain injury, he almost seemed as if he never had taken a bludger to the head.  “Then tell me all about it and _I’ll_ be the one to judge what Georgie deserves.”

“You’ll _hate_ me, Fred…  You’ll be so sickened, you’ll never want to be in the same room with me again…”       

“No, I won’t,” Fred promised.  “Please?  I’m a good listener…”

George sighed.  He knew it was true; Fred had always been a better listener than anyone else in their family…  He wiped at his eyes and tried so hard to stop his tears from flowing.  “…When…  When we were at school, another student… r-raped me…  He tortured me…  Badly…  It left me very afraid and depressed…  He was a Death Eater…  And when they were still trying to recruit me, they tortured me as well…  Over and over and over again…  Until it slowly broke down my mind…”

In silence, Fred reached across them to the bedside table to grab some tissues for his twin.  He passed them to George before he set to rubbing at the other’s back, comforting him ever-so-gently.  “…”

“They made sure that I knew how worthless and pathetic I am…  They told me how I’m good for nothing, and none of my family would ever miss me once I left…  The worst part?  That student who raped me…  He had been there the whole time and I’d never realised because he’d always kept his hood up…  And then, in front of everyone, he raped me again…  They encouraged him; they ignored my screams and pleas for help…  They _watched_ him do it because they thought it was _funny_ …  I broke, that day…  I broke, and they took me away because they knew they’d warped my mind so far, I wasn’t coming back to my senses…”

Fred looked at their bedroom door to make sure no one was out there; while George was finally trusting him to tell him something, he didn’t want for someone else to walk in on them and make his brother even more afraid to talk about it than he already was.  “…”

“They’d left me to stay with the Malfoys…  They weren’t so bad, Freddie…  They…  They fed me and clothed me and… looked after me decently enough…  I don’t even know if they realised that half of the Death Eaters that came around were there to use me…  To fuck me…  Make sure that I knew my place was on my knees in front of them, sucking on their dicks…  It went on every day…  So many of them I had to allow to use my body or else they’d put me under Crucio until I was _begging_ them t-to… to have sex with me…”

The older twin pulled George into his embrace now, but still he didn’t speak; George had to spill everything on his mind first.

“Every day they’d tell me I was getting exactly what I deserved…  That someone like me didn’t _deserve_ love or affection or gentleness…  Only that I deserved to be their… their…” George whispered the next word now as a shudder wrought his body, “… _cum-dumpster…_ Every day, they drilled it into my head…  I was getting _exactly_ what I deserved; no more… No less…  And no matter how _hard_ I try and tell myself they were wrong, I…  I just…  I _still_ believe them, Freddie…  I can’t get their words out of mind, whispering to me…  Telling me I’m just a dirty whore…”

Fred understood it now.  Back when they had first started having sex and he truly knew no better than to fuck his twin, George had responded so eagerly to him because it had been how he was _trained_ to respond.  He was mortified, not at Georgie – _never_ at Georgie – but at himself for having had no _idea_ his brother wasn’t deserving of _any_ of the harshness he had once been so obsessed with. 

He didn’t speak; he only pushed George onto his back so he could lay on top of his twin and kiss him senseless.  When they broke apart for air, he said, “I’m going to make _sure_ Georgie knows he deserves everything I want to give to him…  If they told Georgie a thousand times he’s a slut, I’ll tell him a _million_ times he’s anything _but_.”

The tears came harder, and George hid his eyes behind his arm so he didn’t have to look at his brother.  “I don’t d-deserve you, F-f-freddie…!”

“Of course you do…” Fred kissed away George’s tears, and the younger missed the way Fred suddenly wasn’t speaking in poor English, “…because _I_ deserve _you,_ George.”

For the first time since Fred had discovered love-making and ditched rough fucking for it, George had gotten through it with minimal crying and an orgasm of his own. 

 

* * *

 

His mum was in a good mood for the first time in a long time, and George had his suspicions it was because he was downstairs in the kitchen with her, helping her cook dinner while Fred had a shower.  She was humming as she peeled the potatoes and dropped the scraps into a bucket for the chickens while George carefully cut them into pieces once Molly had skinned them. 

“Mum…?” George dropped the potato thins he had cut up into the saucepan for later.  “…Do you think… I’m a bad person…?”

Molly’s humming stopped, and a large frown crossed her face.  She put what she was holding down so she could reach out and put her hand on her son’s cheek and whisper, “You are _far_ from a bad person, George.  You are my _son,_ and by far the sweetest son I have.”

“You’re scared of me, though…  How does that make me sweet when all I seem to do is try and put killing curses on everyone…?”

“We are not scared of _you,_ George,” Molly promised sternly.  “We are scared of the things you were _taught_ to do.  If we were afraid of _you,_ we would have taken you to St. Mungo’s, sweetheart.” 

“What about all the stuff I’ve done…?  What makes it okay for _me_ to have done it, but not okay for any other Death Eater…?”

“George.  Look at me, George.” Molly made sure her son was making eye contact with her before she continued.  “George, we _know_ you.  You are the kindest, most caring young man who, unfortunately, had some terrible, _terrible_ people corrupt you.  We know who you are and who you _aren’t,_ and a killer you are _not,_ George.  You were hurt so badly, and we as a family let you down…  Those things you’ve done… _aren’t_ okay, Georgie…  But we know _why_ they were done, and we have no intentions of ever holding any of it against you.”

George nodded slowly.  He turned his attention back to his potatoes for a few minutes before he said, “Mum…?  Fred thinks I’m…  I’m _worth_ something…”

“Of course he does, dear; you _are_ worth something.  Between those Death Eaters and you, you’re worth _thousands_ more than they ever will be.  That Malfoy family…  Our sweet George may not be Draco, but we don’t want him to be, either; we love you _exactly_ how you are, George.”

“Draco wasn’t so bad to me…” George looked away now as he remembered his time living at the Malfoy Manor.  He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself before he explained.  “He…  He found me… several times…  He saved my life, and made sure his father never found out what happened…  I cut all the way through my wrists and was on the verge of dying, and he walked into my room and found me…  He stayed with me and never left until I was healed properly…  Another time, he…  He cleaned me up after some of the Death Eaters… r-raped me…”

Molly fought back her tears at these words.  She shook her head and reached out to hug George tight.  “George…  George, _never_ doubt yourself, sweetheart; you were – and still _are ­_ – one of the best children I could have ever hoped for…”

“…”

Through the tears that were now quickly streaming down her face, Molly gave a bright smile.  “You know, it’s been a long time since any of us have had to yell at you and Fred for pranking us…  It would be nice to have our two favourite pranksters back…”

 George wiped at his own damp eyes.  He nodded.  Molly was right; he’d been in such deep depression, he hadn’t even been able to find any interest in something he and his brother had once lived for.  He knew Fred didn’t even remember their favourite interest, but that could also have been George’s fault; he’d barely introduced his twin at all to any sorts of pranks, and Fred probably didn’t even remember what a prank _was_. 

“I’m gonna show him some of our notes after dinner…” George’s lip trembled as the first tear fell.  “Maybe we can finish something we started working on before…  Before everything had happened…”

Molly’s smile became brighter.  “Oh, sweetheart, that would be fantastic!  Can you finish with these potatoes for me?  I’m going to go get more vegetables from the garden.”

George nodded.  He didn’t mind taking over his mother’s job; in fact, it made him feel safe and warm to be with her like this, as if nothing else in the world could ever hurt him again.

And truthfully, he wasn’t exactly wrong there; despite everything that had happened, he’d been the only one hurting himself, over and over and _over_ again, and he was starting to see that now. 


End file.
